Gypsy Girl (15 page)

I left it a few minutes and then strolled away. Here was me thinking that Milo and McCloud both wanting me to move was a coincidence. It wasn’t. McCloud must’ve set Milo onto me, to keep himself away from any rough stuff.

He was cleverer than I thought.

Night fell. The clock headed towards midnight. Sabrina was curled up in her princess quilt beneath the skirts of her wedding dress, fast asleep. I wished I could do the same, but I couldn’t relax again. Outside, under the gazebos, I could hear Bartley telling everyone tales of America,
C
AGED
and the boot-camp training that he ran for the fighter boys on the show. Even more of our friends and relatives had come down to see him. Motors and lorries were parked all the way along the road because the field was so full now.

Everyone was having a good time except me. I wasn’t speaking to anyone. I was angry at them all. I was angry at myself, and at Alice and Gregory. The whole world was getting me in a rage. I rang Kimmy.

“Find me a fight. Then come and get me.”

She gave a whoop. “On my way.”

I changed into my favourite coral-pink Lycra shorts trimmed in black, and a matching tight crop top with a zip-up sweater over it. I squeezed out past the dresses. No one saw me leave. Everyone thought I was sulking in my bed. I walked to the road, and began marching along it towards town, watching out for Kimmy’s Golf.

Someone started following me straightaway. I was hoping it was Milo or Pony, so I carried on walking. I made sure I was balanced on my toes, my ears wolf-sharp and directed back to the footsteps, which were getting closer. I hoped they’d come near me. Please let them start something. My hands were already in fists. Please let them want to fight me.

The road was dark, but every so often there was a street light. As I approached the first light, I slowed. I wanted to get a look at them. Let them come closer. They were being too slow to attack. The footsteps were hurrying to catch me now, so I spun on my heel, my hands coming up. I was hoping for Milo. He deserved another beating.

It wasn’t Milo.

It was Gregory. He walked into the circle of light and stopped quickly. He held up his hands. “Whoa. Wait. It’s me.”

I could see that. What the hell was he doing out here? And why did he have to look so cute in an old jumper and a pair of crumpled jeans? I could feel my heart start to beat faster. Too much adrenaline was flooding like fire through my veins, ready to take on a fight. But there was no fight, just me and him staring at each other again. Half of me was overjoyed to see his face. The other half carried on being angry. What was the use of being glad to see him?

“What do you want?” I asked.

I think the same fire was running through his veins.

“I’m sick of everyone telling me what to do,” he said. “I wanted to see you.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t. I nearly kicked you in the head.” I was walking fast down the road towards town. “You shouldn’t be here. Go home.”

He was keeping up with me. “No.”

Fine. He wanted to walk with me. I let him, for now.

“I can’t sleep,” he said. “I can’t think straight.”

Me neither. But I didn’t tell him that. A car approached, its headlights sweeping over us, and carried on by. It wasn’t Kimmy. I kept walking.

“You should keep away from me,” I said.

“Why?”

“I’ll get you hurt again. Milo’s mad at me, and he is going to use you to hurt me if he can. There’s something going on. I can’t figure out what it is yet, but Milo’s at International Express now. He’s with Mr McCloud. They’re connected.”

That surprised him. “Connected? How?”

I shrugged. “Working for him, I suppose. I can’t see them being big mates.”

“Why would Mr McCloud hire a dick like Milo?”

He’d missed the point. I stopped and turned to him. “Don’t you get it? That means it
was
my fault you got beat up. McCloud must’ve told Milo to beat me up and scare me away. But he daren’t, so he got you instead. He knew if he made it look like I’d hurt you, it’d get us thrown off the field.”

He still wasn’t convinced. “Seriously? Mr McCloud? He’s a big businessman. There’s a chain of International Express companies, not just this one. He’s loaded. He’s not a Bond villain. I don’t know why he’d care that much about you.”

“Just because he’s a rich businessman, it doesn’t make him an angel.” I started walking again. Gregory could think what he liked. I knew the truth.

He caught me up. “Look, I still can’t believe he’d order someone to beat you or me up.” He grabbed my arm. “Can we stop, please?”

I shook him away and carried on. Another car went by without slowing. Half of me wanted Kimmy to get here quickly. The other half wanted to stay and argue with Gregory all night.

“You should go back. Me aunties would go mental if they knew I was out in the dark with you.”

“Why? What’s it got to do with them?”

“I’m a disgrace. My uncle wants to take me back to America with him.”

The headlights of another car were approaching. It lit up the road sign that announced we were entering Langton. The town with the same name as the boy beside me. Maybe once upon a time they owned the whole place and were lords of the manor. I stopped by it. This was where I had to meet Kimmy.

Gregory stopped, facing me but keeping his distance. “It’s the same at my house. My dad’s watching me all the time. My mum thinks you’ve bewitched me or something.”

I tossed my hair back. I tried to smile. “Maybe I have. I’m the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, that makes me special. It means I can get boys in me power.”

He didn’t laugh. His mood changed suddenly. The anger went out of him, but his eyes were still blazing. “I half believe you. You look witchy tonight. Gorgeous and witchy.”

He moved closer and held out his hands like we were going to grapple. He waited for me to make a move, his mouth curving into a small smile. I took his hands.

“More arm wrestling?” I said. I had to joke. His touch was electric. He shook his head.

“Does everything have to be about fighting for you?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.” He really didn’t know. He didn’t know how the fire ran through my veins before a fight, like it was doing now. And how my nerves tingled and every part of me was too alive. I shouldn’t be near Gregory when I felt like this. It made everything too intense.

He didn’t realize. He looked entranced.

“You look like you’re either going to strike me down or put some kind of spell on me. I can’t decide which.”

My heart had begun to beat too fast. The only thing between us was our joined hands, as though any moment we might start to fight for real. One of us would twist and try to get a throw, or sweep with a foot and knock the other over.

But we both knew it wasn’t fighting that we wanted to do to each other.

“I always remembered you,” he said, softly. “But I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. You were this mystery girl who I found in the hallway. And you dashed away. I went up to the site looking for you, but you’d gone. There was nothing left except flattened grass.”

There was nothing left of the world now except this little patch of grass and the road sign and the dark road. And me and Gregory so close to each other.

“Did you want to see me again?” I said. My eyes were used to the darkness, and I could see his face more clearly.

“Yes. You’re a mystery. I always want to solve mysteries.”

“Have you solved me now you’ve met me again?”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t figure you out at all.”

We were so close together. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. I had no idea how I was going to stop my heart aching when we left on Sunday. Because this little world of me and him was a false one.

“It’ll be the same this time,” I said. “In two days I’ll be gone.”

“So what am I going to do about the fact that I’m crazy about you?” he said.

There’s always a tipping point in a fight, a tiny moment when you suddenly know that you’re going to win or lose. Was this the tipping point for me and Gregory? Win or lose, all I wanted was for him to kiss me.

It didn’t happen. Another set of headlights approached. They swept over us. The car slowed to a stop. It was Kimmy’s Golf. I let go of his hands and stood back. The spell broke. We weren’t alone any more. The real world was back.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Where?”

How could I tell him that I was going to make money fighting in a place where they called me Gypsy Girl, and where some of the boys were too scared to fight me? How could I say that the reason he thought I looked witchy and entrancing tonight was partly because I was ready to fight in a cage?

He didn’t belong anywhere near Maltese Joey’s clubs. He didn’t even know they existed. What would he think of a girl who went to them willingly, even when she wasn’t paying for her sister’s wedding, who needed them to put danger and thrills into her life?

The car window slid down.

“What’s up?” shouted Kimmy. “Are you getting in, or what?”

“Yes. Give me a moment.”

I turned to Gregory. “You think you know me?”

“I do. I’m good at reading people. I watch them. I can tell what people are like.”

“Not me.”

He didn’t believe me. He shook his head.

“Do you want to know the truth?” I opened the car door. “Dare you to come with me.”

“Where to?”

“You’ll see. I want to show you who I really am.”

He looked at the car, he looked at Kimmy. He looked at me.

“Fine.”

Kimmy was mad with me. She was ignoring Gregory.

We were cruising through a maze of dark streets, miles away from Langton, in the opposite direction to my home and the gym. We’d come straight down the M1, though, so it hadn’t taken us long to get there.

We turned a corner.

“In fifty yards you have reached your destination,”
announced the satnav.

Our destination was a street lined with old warehouses and run-down businesses. Most of the businesses along here were cheap garages and workshops that resprayed hot cars, ready for resale to unsuspecting customers. Two of the streetlights were broken, and the third was a dull orange and flashing fitfully.

One place had been turned into a small nightclub with a bad reputation. Men paid money for girls to pretend to like them, and dance in front of them. It didn’t seem to be doing too well because there weren’t many cars parked in front of it. But further down there was a bigger building that had been turned into a gym, one that held fights at night. Its car park was full of cars. They’d drawn a good crowd. That would mean more prize money, and more for Gregory to see.

He was sitting quietly in the back seat, watching everything, trying to work out what sort of place we were taking him to. Kimmy parked the Golf and led the way to the front door. She’d noticed all the cars, and knew we could make good money tonight. She’d almost forgotten about Gregory and began to look happier. Like me, she did this for the money and for the thrill of doing something edgy. It made us both feel alive.

There was always the scent of danger at these places. It sparkled in the air, hanging over the buildings and the fighters and their supporters. That’s what drew them back, time and time again. We were like bees to a jar of honey. We needed the thrill of doing something that wasn’t allowed, the tingle of not knowing whether the club would get raided and busted for gambling. No one could tell how the night would end. That was the draw.

Over the door, a CCTV camera blinked red, telling us that we were being videoed. Even from outside, we could hear the noise of the crowd, a continual, rumbling howl, the sound of people shouting for their favourite fighters. The door swung open. A bouncer stood there, an ex-fighter with a broken nose and the stunned look of someone who’d taken too many knocks to the head.

“Gypsy Girl to see Maltese Joey,” said Kimmy.

He looked me over. “He’s not here. He’s busy.”

“Yeah, I know.” That was the story. Maltese Joey was never in his clubs. Some people thought he didn’t exist at all. I knew differently, but I played along.

“You’re late. They’re waiting for you.” The man waved us through. “Go to the main hall.”

Kimmy was usually first in. She liked to get the money business over with at the start. She sorted out my fee and my winnings. She made sure I got well paid. But tonight, as I walked in with Gregory, she didn’t follow us. She was looking back outside, as though she’d seen something worrying.

“What’s wrong?”

She gave the street one last look and followed me and Gregory inside. “It’s nothing. While I was driving I thought I saw someone.”

“Who?”

“No one. Forget it.”

I shouldn’t have done, but I did. I was too busy watching Gregory. He’d gone very quiet. There was another set of doors to get through before we were in the main hall, but the cheers and boos were louder now.

“What is this place?” He frowned at me. “Is this a joke?”

I unzipped my sweatshirt so he could see my crop top with the name Gypsy Girl stencilled on it. “No joke. Welcome to Maltese Joey’s world.”

The bouncer threw open the inner doors, and a wave of heat and noise smacked into us. Me and Kimmy were used to it, but Gregory stepped back as though the bellowing of the crowd was a fist that had hit him hard. It was a savage, wild sound that rose and rose. One of the fighters had obviously hit the mats. This was the supporters shouting for their men to hit and kick and grapple harder. It was the sound of the cage fight.

In front of us the main hall opened out. It was a big space with a high ceiling. The edges were dark, but the centre was lit so brightly you’d think a UFO had landed. The light was coming from a big lighting rig high above the hexagonal cage. It was a million miles away from me daddy’s gym. In our gym, the practise cage is brand-new and the bars shiny, the mats clean. Here the bars were rusted in places and bent in others where the supporters and trainers hooked their hands through and shook the bars if their fighters weren’t fighting hard enough.