Dalila
Rico and his friends lead us to an underground fighting ring. A scared Soona is clutching my elbow, but Demi is totally excited to party like everyone here.
“This is so cool!” Demi says, grasping a drink from one of Rico’s friends.
I take it out of her hand and hand it back to the guy. “Remember what happened to me in Texas? Don’t let it happen to you.”
“Wow,” Demi says. “That night really had an impact on you.”
“I’m more aware now,” I admit to her. I wince as one of the guys in the ring starts fighting as if it’s a fight to the death. “What’s cool about this?”
Rico takes a gulp of his beer. “Those fighters can make a ton of money, Dalila.” He gestures to the betting cage. “I bet on Esteban Rivera and expect to make a killing tonight. He’s undefeated.”
I don’t tell Rico that I’m not a fan of betting, especially on underground fights like this. Boxing is one thing. It’s a religion to my father. But this . . .
I glance at the guys in the cage. I can see a splattering of blood on the mats as the cage opens and the winner of this round is declared. It’s a huge guy with oversize muscles and a scary grimace on a grizzly face that reminds me of a bear.
Soona glances at the cage. “I don’t like this place,” she whispers in my ear.
“Just ignore the fight,” I tell her. “Everyone else is dancing and having a good time.”
Soona turns away from the cage. “That guy who just won es enorme. I don’t think anyone can beat him. Why don’t they just call it off and give him first place?”
One of Rico’s friends comes over and leans in close to tell him something. “I’ll be right back,” Rico says, motioning to his friends to follow his lead. He heads to the other side of the club.
Demi, who’s been flirting with Rico’s friend Marcus all night, starts jumping up and down to the music. “This place is awesome! We should come here more often, Dalila! It’s like a dungeon of heaven.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I tell her.
Soona nods. “Dalila’s right. A dungeon can’t be heaven. And heaven better not be a dungeon.”
Demi flips her head back and holds her arms out wide. “Don’t you two get it? Nothing makes sense here, and that’s the beauty of it!”
I’m probably going to be grounded the rest of my life for coming to this heavenly dungeon.
“If you wanted to see what skills I got, you’re going to get a glimpse of them very soon,” someone with an extremely American accent calls out behind me.
Ryan Hess, otherwise known as Mr. America.
I whip around so fast it takes me a second before I can focus. Just staring into those bright blue eyes makes my body shiver with excitement. “Ryan, wh . . . what are you doing here?”
“I’ve been askin’ myself that same thing.” He gestures to the cage. “Lots of action tonight, huh?”
I glance at the now-empty cage and then back at Ryan. “You like watching fights?”
His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief and something else I can’t identify as he leans in close. “I like winning fights.”
When he leans back and the sides of his mouth quirk up the slightest bit, I cross my arms. “You have a big ego, Mr. America.”
“Sometimes.”
“You can’t win every fight,” I tell him, thinking of the giant who just won the last fight. “Some guys will always be better than you.”
He seems to contemplate my words for a second, then shakes his head. “Nah. If I thought about losing, I’d never win.”
“So all you think about is winning?”
He shrugs. “Most of the time.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not fighting tonight, then.” I gesture to the cage. “Because you couldn’t win against that beast who just won the last fight. He’d tear you apart, and mess up that clean shirt you’re wearing in the process.”
He looks down. “You think he’d mess up my shirt?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
“Well, damn.” I’m completely unprepared when he pulls his shirt up over his head. His defined muscles shouldn’t impress me, but I can’t stop staring. Masculinity and that ever-present slew of confidence flows from every pore of his powerful body. “Well, then, you’ll have to keep my shirt for me until I get out of the ring. We wouldn’t want it to get messed up now, would we?”
His shirt is draped over my hand now. “You’re not going to fight tonight,” I tell him. I don’t even know why I care. But I do. Big ego or not, I know how hungry guys are to fight Americans and show them that Mexicans are just as good if not better than our neighbors to the north. “That guy who won the last fight is a monster. I’m not even sure he’s human.”
“The thing about me, Miss Mexico,” he says, “is that I’m not afraid of anything. Human or not.”
“It’s pronounced Meh-hi-co,” I call out, but he’s already weaving through the crowd on his way to the cage.
And I’m still standing here with his shirt in my hand.
“Um . . . what is Ryan doing here?” Soona asks me.
Demi wags her brows. “Did you see the six-pack on him?”
“I wasn’t paying attention to his six-pack.”
Demi looks down at my hand. “Oh, really? Is that why you were drooling as you stared at his retreating back? And is that why you’re clutching his shirt as if it’s your personal property?”
I shove the shirt at her. “Here, you hold it.”
She steps back. “No way, chica. He gave it to you. You’re the chosen one.”
“Does it smell good?” Soona asks shyly.
I shake my head. “Ew. I’m not gonna smell it.”
Soona holds her hands up as if she’s surrendering. “I’m not crazy. I just read something in a magazine about some guys having a certain scent that attracts girls.”
“Ryan attracts girls because of his looks . . . and body.” Demi scans the crowd. “And those eyes. Did you take a gander at his ojos?”
“I didn’t notice them,” I tell her.
“Sure you did, just like every other girl in this place,” she teases. “Or maybe you were too busy wondering what those full lips are capable of.”
I pull my shoulders back and stand up straight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
As I scan the room for Ryan, I spot Rico walking over to us and my spirits drop.
“Oh no, Rico’s coming. What do I do with this?” I say, holding out Ryan’s shirt.
I hand it to Demi.
She hands it to Soona, who hands it back to me.
I quickly shove the shirt into my purse hoping Rico doesn’t notice.
“The next fight’s starting,” he says, taking a swig of beer. “Esteban will fight the winner of the final round.”
Ryan and his opponent are escorted into the cage. He looks just as tough and intimidating as he did when I first saw him at the gym, unwilling or unable to be frightened by anyone. His opponent looks like he’s out for blood. All eyes are focused on the cage as the opponents face each other—Ryan versus a local fighter, ready to pound on the American as if it’s war.
“No way! It’s that gringo from the gym I was telling you about,” Rico says to one of his friends.
While Rico explains to his friends how he knows the white guy in the cage, I can’t seem to shake this feeling of dread off of me.
“Güey, I know that guy,” Rico’s friend says. “His old man’s a crooked cop connected to Vega.”
“How do you know?” Rico asks. I listen intently for the answer.
“I know all the crooked cops,” he says. “They’re all on the payroll. I’ve seen this guy fight before at some dive in Texas. He’s good.”
Rico narrows his eyes. “I don’t give a shit how good he is or who he’s connected to. Even if he wins this one, which I doubt, there’s no way he can beat Esteban.”
When the crowd roars, I stop thinking and focus all my attention to the fight in the middle of the bar.
Ryan’s friend Mateo is standing close to the cage, urging Ryan on.
It isn’t long before both guys are pummeling each other. The music is pounding so hard the floor is shaking. Or maybe that’s my nerves. As much as I don’t like guys with oversize egos like Ryan, I don’t want to see him hurt.
But that isn’t happening. Ryan is obviously more skilled than the other guy. When he lands a good hit, the other guy stumbles back and the crowd boos.
I watch as Ryan relaxes his stance and stops in the middle of the cage, standing completely still.
Oh no.
He’s going to let his opponent get in a free shot. A courtesy hit. When the guy gets in a good punch and Ryan’s lip starts bleeding, I turn away. I can’t watch.
This is a cage fight. Why would Ryan let the guy get in any punches when he’s obviously a better fighter? Who cares about decency and saving face in a dirty fight?
The boy with the big ego actually wants his opponent to lose with dignity. Demi is right. This place doesn’t make sense.
I try to ignore the fight and focus on the music and having fun with my friends, but it’s hard. Some of the guys in the crowd are shaking hands with Rico and his friends like they’re celebrities. When a few guys with gang tattoos chat with them, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
I don’t know if Rico is just a rich kid with lots of connections, or if it goes deeper than that. Ever since Rico’s family came to dinner, my parents have been on edge.
As if I don’t have enough to worry about, Ryan is fighting another opponent. I don’t want to care, and yet there’s something about him that draws me to him. Throughout the night I keep glancing at the cage while trying to forget that Ryan is locked inside it.
Finally, it’s the main event. Rico is standing next to me now, watching with anticipation. “I’ve got big money on this final round,” he explains.
I don’t want to watch Ryan fight the giant. While Ryan may be strong and muscular, Esteban’s bugged-out eyes and bulging veins make me think he must be on some kind of steroids or drugs.
When the crowd starts chanting “Esteban! Esteban!” my gaze focuses on Ryan. His body is battered from the previous fights and I can see blood slowly dripping from a cut on his cheek. He doesn’t seem fazed that the crowd is rooting for his opponent. He’s stone-faced, unwilling to be emotional or intimidated just because the majority of people are against him.
I’m tense and hold my breath in an attempt to calm my nerves.
This is the main event.
Ryan glances at me as the ref walks into the cage and suddenly my face feels all hot and my chest feels tight. I find myself shaking my head as a signal to Ryan to stop this before it starts. Don’t do this. This isn’t boxing. It feels like a revenge fight. Instead of taking my subtle hint and stepping out of the cage, Ryan winks at me, then turns to face his opponent.
The air in the place is suddenly charged, the chants getting louder.
“I want to leave,” I tell Rico.
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “No way. We can’t leave now. The fight is about to start.” He turns his attention to the cage.
I grab Soona’s and Demi’s hands. “Let’s go,” I tell them.
“Now?” Demi asks.
“Yes.”
I don’t want to see the bloodshed.