Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
When his groggy stagger excites every spectator surrounding me, my Spidey senses activate. Feo and I always wooed the crowd when we fought, but I couldn’t miss an obvious heckler my last match. He grinned through every punch my opponent hit me with and rubbed his hands together like he had a ton of money on my competition.
This time around, his actions are on the opposing end of the spectrum.
Dollar signs flash in his eyes when I punish the brute with my fists.
They fade when I prance around the ring like I’m too tired to fight.
What the fuck are you up to, Polina?
Just her returning to her seat next to Vasily pisses me off, but the thought of her conning me to help that jerk earn a single fucking dime has me considering throwing the fight.
I wouldn’t hesitate if the quickest click of a camera shutter didn’t leave me open to back-to-back hits from my opponent. Cameramen are documenting the fight to snuff any disputes, but they have me recalling what I stumbled onto before I clouded my smarts with several bottles of liquor earlier this week and multiple lines of cocaine.
Polina is being watched. By whom, I don’t know, but there is a way I can stop it.
“I want to renegotiate.”
“Is too late for that now,” my opponent answers before swinging around his fat arms that are so slow-moving they leave his face unprotected for three rapid-fire jabs.
“Not with you, dipshit.” I bounce around on the mat to make sure the person I’m referencing can see my face, before saying, “With him.” Polina’s eyes widen when my head nudge gains Vasily the attention of hundreds of spectators, but she remains as quiet as a church mouse. “Because I’m fairly fucking certain this is more about you than her.” Polina shakes her head, wordlessly dismissing my claim, but she isn’t the only one who can act ignorant. “So since you’re going to get far more than the kiss I’ll get from her if I win, I want to renegotiate.”
The crowd’s shocked hiss almost drowns out Vasily asking Polina if our agreement included a kiss.
When she fails to deny her lips locking with mine is part of our negotiation, Vasily slings his eyes back to me. “If she agreed to a kiss, I’m fine with that. It’s a bit of fun, but she won’t be giving you more than that.”
“Fun?”
I don’t dodge the giant’s next hit.
I let him smack me up the side of the skull, which sends birds flying around my head.
I can’t believe I didn’t consider returning to fighting sooner. I thought a bottle and a couple of lines of coke each day would lessen my grief enough I could function with some normality.
I was wrong.
In the past six months, there have only been three days I’ve breathed without it hurting. The two times Polina’s body melded with mine, and tonight when I took my anger out on a man who thought size was the only skill needed to fight.
“Fun for who?”
Polina knows what I’m doing—she can spot a bullshit artist from a mile out—so instead of fretting like Vasily, she sinks low in her chair and hides her flaming red cheeks with her hand.
My ribs will pay for Bigfoot’s next two whacks, but I’ll suffer the injustice when the possibility of losing has Vasily acting like he might die if I don’t win.
“What the fuck do you want? A cut of the profits? A hooker for the night? Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you!”
My short fuse that he’s going to profit a bunch of money from me tonight almost fucks up my ruse, but I regather the reins—barely. The anger I distribute to my opponent’s face has Vasily tasting victory so adeptly he barely balks when I deviate from a schoolyard wager to wanting the fucking works. “If I win, Polina comes home with me.”
Before Polina can announce her shock, much less warn me about the giant sneaking up on me, Vasily counterbids. “How many nights are we talking?”
After evading Bigfoot’s swing that would have a second set of birdies circling my head, I reply, “A week.” When Vasily laughs as if humored I didn’t ask for eternity, I add, “She won’t need longer than that to realize she deserves someone far better than a snake like you.”
When the crowd hollers in sync, Vasily remembers we have many witnesses to his desperation. Too fucking bad for him I can smell his rank-ass breath from here. He’s so damn thirsty for me to win, his throat is as dry as a desert.
He tries to play it cool, though, which means I act as if my brain rattling against my skull is how I get my kicks. I don’t dodge any of my opponent’s next lot of swings. I accept them all, and the third one knocks me around so much that blood dribbles from my nose.