Page 16

I let the rage seep deep into my marrow. I let it fill me, my hands already clenched to fists.
“Kyla,” Brawler calls out.
I turn, purposefully loosening my fists and looking at him like a deer in the headlights. He shakes his head like the Brawler who was inside my apartment earlier might show up, but in the next second, that vanishes when his predatory smile comes out to play again. He crooks a finger at me, and I step toward him in my oversized shirt and joggers, sweat already rimming the collar. “You’re up.”
I make a show of staring at the crowd perched on wooden crates. They’re stacked on top of one another like poor men’s bleachers. They’re oblivious about the fight that’s about to happen. They’re still talking about the last one while downing their drinks or sharing a joint.
Brawler sighs as he takes me in. “Just turtle up when she comes at you.” He gives me a wary once-over, like he’s afraid I might get seriously hurt. The old Brawler’s back, making me even more curious about what goes through his head. He told me I remind him of someone. That someone had to have been so important to him. Ridiculously, I’m attracted to both his sides, whether they’re complete opposites of one another or not.
That doesn’t matter right now, though. And not ever. I have one fucking thing to do while I’m in the Heights, and it’s not to bang Brawler. “But—” I start to protest.
He cuts me off. His momentary lapse in better judgment now gone. “It’s your funeral, New Girl. Remember what I said. You only have two options, and you won’t survive the other.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. All the taunts, all the petty bitches and dicks from Rawley Heights, like Nevaeh and the douche who coined me Princess, are about to see a side of me they never saw coming. I wish I could record what’s about to go down, cameras focused on their reactions. I haven’t seen Nevaeh, but I have no doubt she’s here. Oscar, too. I doubt he’d miss this, whether I’m fighting the girl he wants me to beat up or not.
Brawler pushes me toward the empty circle in the middle of the room, and I stumble. I must look like a blithering mess, but before I get pissed, I remember that’s exactly what I want to look like.
The crowd crows. Blistering heat warms my cheeks. the embarrassment eating me up from the inside out. They start to chant, “Prin-cess. Prin-cess.”
Seriously, did Brawler tell them how much I fucking hated that?
Anywhere else, Princess might be a compliment, but to them, it’s far from it. It denotes a life of privilege they never had. They hate me. All of them.
Cherry enters through the crowd like the queen bee of Rawley Heights. The crowd roars. She’s a favorite of theirs. It’s not difficult to figure that out. A cherry red robe drapes over her shoulders like she’s an actual boxer. A guy from her corner slips the silk material from her shoulders revealing a skimpy sports bra. It traps the majority of her breasts away, but ample cleavage still pours out. The crowd’s cheering intensifies. My guess is it’s mostly man sluts hoping she’ll slip a tit in the fight. They’re probably looking over at me and thinking that’s the only excitement they’ll get out of tonight.
Now that we’re facing each other, it’s getting more real. Who would’ve thought two days in and I’d get my chance to show the Heights Crew’s leaders what I’m about? Fighting is my only chance in. If I had to wait to endear myself to them in some other way, it could take years and years for them to trust me. Call me self-serving, but Big Daddy K has already taken six years of my life. He doesn’t need more than that.
I stop myself from jumping up and down, the way I usually get rid of pre-fight jitters. Instead, I toe the ground and do some basic stretching. The kind they taught us in Kindergarten, so I look like a dumbass newbie.
Cherry sneers at me. “This is what you get for coming to the Heights, Bitch.”
I’ve had to tone down my snarky ass for days. I can’t wait until this fucking fight is over, so I can verbally eliminate all these fucking wannabe fighters. Instead of tearing her down, I flinch.
“Aww, do you need to go hide back to Mommy?”
My blood boils. This bitch’s mom is probably doped up on crack right now. Or spreading her legs downtown. She probably never had a Mommy to console her, but I did. She’s just fucking dead because of people like her.
I search the crowd behind Cherry, looking for Rocket and hoping he was the guy cozying up to her before the fight. At the same time, I’m begging for him to appear so I can be sure he’s watching, I’m also wondering how many girls he’s fucking. The secretary at the school, for sure. Cherry, obviously.
Get a fucking grip,I scold myself. Rocket’s sex life is none of my concern. Nor is Brawler’s, or anyone else’s for that matter. I’m only interested in him being here because he needs to see me kick his girl’s ass. He and Brawler need to give me more fights, so I can move up and make my way as a serious player for the Heights Crew.
Brawler steps into the middle of the ring. His lips move, but I look past him toward Cherry. She winks, still smirking over her Mom comment. A rush of nothing but rage fills me. How dare anyone here mention her. A storm rages inside my head until Brawler steps back and yells, “Fight!” Then, the storm unleashes.
My plans have left the building.
I rush her. Her eyes flare with anticipation, but she isn’t good. I’m fast and skilled. She’s just an amateur, a wannabe competitor dangling from the coattails of Rocket. I slip under her lame ass attempt at a punch, pop back up, and give a good right hook to her fucking ribs.
The crowd gasps. Sure, Cherry’s not their number one fighter. I get that. I was just a gimme to her, a steppingstone. Someone she could use to climb the trellis of the Heights Crew hierarchy.Well, good fucking luck after this, you dirty fucking hoe bag bitch.
I step back after my body reacts on autopilot. My fist connecting with her midsection a third time brings me back to reality. I can’t just come out here and kick her ass. Not until I’m sure Rocket’s here. Trying to stifle my reaction, I leave my hands down at my waist and look petrified at what I just did.
“You cunt,” she seethes, blinking
She lunges for me, and I let her. She gets in two good punches before I veer around her, bringing my forearms up to block my face. Brawler eyes me from the outskirts of the crowd. I definitely didn’t do a good job of hiding my prowess. He saw my initial attack for what it was. A deliberate, skilled offense.
Cherry pulls on my shoulders and lands a knee to my gut. With her mouth near my ear, she says, “You piece of fucking trash. Bitches like you don’t make it in the Heights. Consider me your gatekeeper, and you’re not in.”
Her confidence is growing. Good. I look past her arm, scanning the crowd again until I finally see him. There. Exactly who I need to see this. Now that I have Rocket’s attention, I push past her hold, slip under her and then lock my arm around her outside forearm, holding her in place as I batter the side of her head with hard-hitting blows. Every time she tries to squirm out of it, I move with her, keeping out of her reach while she’s well within mine.