Page 28 of Savage Suit

“Well, that was something, wasn’t it, folks? I’m sure you could tell those two have personal beef,” the man declared, chuckling.

The crowd booed, and his laughter died away.

He cleared his throat. “Sit tight, folks! You’ve been waiting all evening for the main event, and it is moments away!” he announced, then allowed that to sink into the minds of the disgruntled crowd. “TT vs. Big K is up next!”

I admired how he so deftly turned the atmosphere around. The mob went from threatening violence to stomping and cheering, which also confused me.

Big K? Was it Big Knucklehead? “Why do these boxers have such stupid names?” I asked.

Quinn dragged her attention away from the ring. “The K stands for Kudi. He’s a fan of Kid Cudi.”

Her animation gave me joy. I smiled at her.

“The rapper,” she added, talking to Paul.

“That doesn’t answer the question, Quinn,” I said, recapturing her attention. “And isn’t that a copyright infringement?”

“His is spelled with a K, not a C.”

I rolled my eyes, a singular thought on my mind.

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Six

The fight between TT and Big Kudi bored me out of my mind. Compared to the first match we watched, the main event proved ho-hum, run-of-the-mill dull trading of blows, and lasted fifteen minutes, far too long. To Quinn’s delight, it ended with a victory for TT.

Once we headed back to the city from Westbury, Quinn and Paul decreed the night too early to end. My sister announced I’d continue as the third wheel. As their passenger, I had limited options. Head to the subway—an idea Quinn shot down—call an Uber—as a broke bitch I couldn’t afford the ride service; walk and take my fucking chances—another option Quinn protested, peppering in a few insults about my sanity—or remain in their company.

“Can you drop me off, Paul?” It was his car, and he was driving. “I’d appreciate it. You and my sister can enjoy the rest of your evening without me.”

“Sure can’t,” Paul responded. “I didn’t want you with us in the first place.”

Quinn leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. “If you leave, my night will be ruined, Ryan,” she said, straightening again.

I glared at the back of Quinn’s head. Those words guaranteed my cooperation. The heifer played both ends to the middle, demanding I stop mothering her and then dishing sentiments to bend me to her will.

I didn’t mind her company. She was my best friend and my blood.

Paul, the ass, was a different story and the one I hated most of all Quinn’s flings. Unfortunately, he was her current favorite. Every time he spoke to me, he offered passive-aggressive bullshit. I am positive there was an old rule about messing with people who were assholes to your family, one Quinn would hopefully abide by after tonight. Or at least not invite me to any event he attended.

My sister, Paul, and I arrived at a Midtown dive bar after a two-block walk from where he parked his Benz. As we walked up the steps and Paul opened the door, Quinn’s phone buzzed, to my chagrin.

She snatched it from her pocket and looked at the screen. “I’ll catch up to you guys in a sec,” she announced, turning away and answering the call.

Less than pleased, Paul allowed me to walk inside first.

“One minute,” he instructed, strolling forward. A moment later, he beckoned me to where he stood near the opening of the overflow seating area.

As dive bars went, this one wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It had scarred tables, a dark wooden floor, and a long bar covering half the section. Hanging lamps with low-watt exposed bulbs supplied the lighting.

“Thank you for letting me tag along,” I told him as we slid into the booth, sitting across from each other. My sister seemed into him, so I’d overlook his assholery and get to know him for her sake.

“Thank Quinn,” he said flatly. He sat ramrod straight as if the stick shoved up his ass replaced his spine. “She insisted you come. Knowing you were dateless, depressed, and jobless would’ve marred her night.”

“Quinn said that about me?” I asked, too stunned for outrage.

“No. She said you spend your days searching for work. If you had a man, I doubt he’d appreciate you ignoring him. And if a woman’s joblessandmanless, I’m certain she’s depressed.”