Rolling With the Punches (2 page)

Although I still had my doubts, I had to admit that my best friend's enthusiasm was infectious. Despite my best intentions, a smile danced briefly across my face. "Okay, fine," I gave in. "Let's go to your stupid boxing match and get drunk!"

"That's the spirit!" Alexis cheered back. "Now let's go get a cab! Gotta get there right on time to scout out a good place - and to get our drink orders in!"

We headed downstairs, where I watched with a brief note of envy as Alexis hailed a cab with a single wave of those amazingly shapely and toned arms. The girl could cause a traffic accident if she wasn't careful.

She had her phone in her hand, the device appearing there as if by magic, as we slid into the cab. "Okay, I've got the address right here," she said, leaning forward across the central divider of the cab to speak to the cabbie. She showed him the screen of her phone. "Can you take us here, please?"

"No problem, pretty lady!" the driver replied with a toothy grin. His skin was quite dark, and he looked to be in at least his mid-forties with a bit of a paunch poking out towards the steering wheel, but he still admired Alexis's form. All red-blooded males did. "Hold on, I'll have you there right quick!"

"Thank you!" Alexis trilled to him. She reached over and patted my hand. "Come on, Caroline! Isn't this exciting!"

True to his word, the cabbie had us at the address Alexis had specified in just a few minutes, although I lost count of how many traffic laws he broke along the way. We went through at least half a dozen yellow lights, and I was fairly sure that most of his turns were rudely cutting off other drivers, if not outright illegal. There were no sirens lighting up the rear view mirror, however, so everything appeared to be okay.

Alexis reached into her little designer purse and pulled out a few bills to pay the man while I climbed out of the cab. I looked around. Yes, this was definitely looking more and more like Alexis's style of party.

Lights were everywhere. Above my head, a giant sign proclaimed "FIGHT TONITE", spelled out in dozens of little bulbs screwed into the sign in the shape of letters. And yes, there were people everywhere in fancy suits and dresses, chatting with each other as they made their way jauntily into the darkness of the open entrance leading into the building beyond.

Behind me, Alexis came bouncing out of the cab, reaching out to grab my arm in her own. "Isn't this exciting?" she gushed, staring around. "I can't believe that I managed to get us on the list for this thing. One of my exes was roommates with a guy helping to plan the event, and he knew the bouncer, who dated my cousin once, so I basically was able to request whatever I wanted. We've got backstage passes, VIP seats, the whole shebang!"

Despite being dressed up in my tight and rarely-worn dress, feeling squeezed and poked into a shape that was definitely not how my body naturally fell, I still wasn't sure if I was up for a night of rubbing shoulders with people far above my social station. I turned to Alexis, opening my mouth to voice these thoughts, but she didn't give me a chance.

"Come on, we have to go in!" she exclaimed, pulling me forward. I swallowed my treacherous thoughts and let her tug me along.

With Alexis leading and me being pulled reluctantly a half-step behind her, we headed into the big theatre hall, beneath the hundreds of little lights that spelled out the letters and words in the sign above us.

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Inside, we were definitely surrounded by glamour and glitz, as well as the people clothed in it.

Everywhere I looked, I saw glittering gems, brand labels on coats and jackets and suits and dresses and purses and clutches, shining watches and flashes of expensive metals on hands, wrists, ears, and necks. People were in little groups here and there, chatting easily amongst each other as they moved from topic to topic.

Before I could catch more than a glimpse, however, my gaze was blocked by a very large and bulky man, who stepped forward to stand in front of us with his beefy arms crossed. "Names, ladies?" the man inquired.

My eyes roamed up from the arms towards the face, high above us. The man's head was surprisingly small for his body, and appeared to sit directly on his shoulders, with no sign of a neck present anywhere. The head was completely bald, and even though we were indoors, a pair of single-lens wraparound sunglasses obscured his eyes and the bridge of his nose. A small earbud was inserted into his right ear, a spiral cord disappearing down into his neckline. A frown was plastered across his mouth, as if it had been applied with a paint roller.

The man was wearing a suit, possibly made from the sail of a small boat, but it looked ill-fitting and unkempt on his body. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was due to the man, rather than to the suit; I felt that any suit, even one that had been perfectly tailored, would have been wrinkled and ill-fitting after just five minutes on this man. It was something about the feel of his personality, I decided.

My best friend was speaking. "Alexis Belleran," she said clearly, nodding towards the clipboard clutched in one of the man's big paws. "And guest," she added a heartbeat later.

His frown deepened, but the man lifted the clipboard up to hold in front of his face. He must have had to strain to read the names printed on the clipped sheets through his sunglasses. After a minute of tense silence, he lowered the board back down and gave us a brief and shallow nod. "Enjoy your night, ladies," he said without much inflection in his voice, and he stepped aside.

We were in! And an instant later, Alexis was urging me further forward into the crowd of wealthy and glitterati.

Alexis dove into the first group, and I immediately caught snatches of conversation about "the housing market" and "a looming downturn in the economic climate, any day now." Definitely not a topic on which I was prepared to offer any insight. I let Alexis join in, but turned to wander away.

As I moved around the theater hall, listening to the different streams of conversation, nothing really sounded like my cup of tea. I found groups discussing growth stocks, the real estate bubble, overseas investments, precious metals, the newest models of luxury cars, and whether it was better to vacation in Hawaii, the Bahamas, or the Canaries at this time of the year. I had no experience with any of these.

I did, however, find several waiters circulating through the crowd. Some of them bore trays of little miniature foods, some of which I tried (the mini-quiches were delicious, and I followed that waiter around for a few minutes preying on his tray) and some of which I avoided (squid ink oysters? Really?). There were also waiters with platters loaded up with champagne flutes, which I also made sure to sample liberally.

About four flutes of very good champagne later, I was feeling much better about the night. Sure, my sundress was starting to pinch in places that I couldn't adjust in public, but I was out and about! This was probably one of those "hot parties" that is mentioned in all the tabloids the next day, where celebrities come to rub elbows and rich people exchange stock tips! Maybe I would even end up with my picture in the paper!

The champagne was telling me that I ought to go socialize, but I really had to make a few little adjustments to this dress first. Alexis had worked her magic with my undergarments, but whatever she had done was now beginning to slip, making me very aware of how much elastic was currently stretched around my body. I looked for someplace that I could make these adjustments without being seen. Someplace private.

I spotted a door off to one side, a door that looked quite a bit less ornate and decorated than the rest of the decor. Perfect. There wasn't a sign on the door, but I figured that I'd just need a couple minutes out of the way, and then I could rejoin the party.

Strolling casually over to the door, I opened it and stepped through in a single motion. I didn't know if I was supposed to be back here or not, and I didn't want that big bouncer to come over and question me. Especially since my name was only on the list as "guest."

On the other side of the door, I found a corridor, leading down and away with other doors on either side. These looked like dressing rooms! Perhaps I had managed to find my way to the backstage area of the theatre.

Most of the doors were shut, however, and the handles didn't turn when I tried the knobs. Further down the line, however, I could see that there was a light glowing from beneath one door, shining in the relative dimness of the hallway. That one had to be open, didn't it? No one would lock a door and leave the light on inside.

I moved further down the hallway, my ears alert for any noise. Sure, perhaps those drinks I'd enjoyed from the waiters previously had made my own footsteps a little heavier than usual, but I still had control of my ears! But as I drew closer to the door, I still didn't hear any noises coming from inside the possible dressing room.

My hand rested on the doorknob. I waited for one last breath, listening, but still didn't hear any sound. The room was probably empty. Maybe it was left open for one of the fighters or something to come and change out of his boxing trunks afterward, I reasoned. But the man was probably out in the ring or something, warming up. Or maybe out in the alley punching a bag. I wasn't quite sure how boxers got ready for a fight. But surely he wouldn't just be sitting around inside his dressing room.

After another minute of convincing, I was certain that the room was empty. I reached forward and grabbed the handle once again, leaning into the door as I twisted. Sure enough, this door was unlocked, and the door pivoted smoothly in.

I stepped in after the door, letting my weight carry me forward. See? Easy as pie, no trouble at all.

It wasn't until I had closed the door behind me and turned to look around that I realized that I had, in fact, been wrong. It turns out that the room was occupied after all.

A very large and muscular man was sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the floor. He was wearing a pair of shiny, flowing shorts, but nothing else; his chest was bare and rippled with glistening muscle. His chest rose and fell slowly as he pulled in deep breaths, showing off every single individual muscle beneath the surface of his bronze, shining skin.

And his eyes were staring right at me.

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It took me a minute before I managed to find my voice, as the man whose dressing room this surely was continued to stare at me. "Oh my god," I stammered, finally once again finding the gift of speech. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that anyone was in here!"

The man didn't look away. In fact, I wasn't even sure that he was blinking. Was he actually seeing me? Or was this some sort of trance thing to help him fight, where he had his eyes open, but actually was doing some sort of yoga mind control thing inside his head? Unsure, I reached out and waved my fingers in front of his face.

I probably shouldn't have done that.

In a single, swift, lightning-fast motion, the man's hand shot up to grab mine, his huge, massive fingers closing around my entire hand. He didn't crush them, but simply held firm. Despite this, though, I had exactly zero chance of wiggling out of that grip. It was like being held by a stone statue.

As if that grabbing of my hand had been some sort of ignition signal, the rest of the man's body unfolded, and he rose to his feet in front of me. And when I say rose, I really mean it. He just kept on going up and up; by the time he was fully standing, he towered over me. Sure, I'm not a tall girl, but he had to be somewhere well over six feet, probably closer to seven.