The Only Way (18 page)

"Hart," Misty said, sauntering to the center of the ring. Hart saw her lips form the word, but her voice barely carried over the sound of the crowd, louder now as they realized something was different in the way Hart and Misty sized each other up.

"Misty," Hart returned, fighting to clamp down on the emotions bubbling up inside of her. She had played with Misty as a child. They had run laughing through the twisting streets of the Gutter, had climbed playfully over the heap together looking for treasure. Now Misty was looking at her like she was the worst kind of trash.

"Look at you," Misty laughed. "You almost look like a girl in that." She cocked a hip, emphasizing the way she filled out her own costume, the tight spandex highlighting every curve that Hart didn't have. Misty leaned in close. "None of us were surprised, you know. We always knew you were a freak. Running around in those baggy clothes, never so much as looking at a boy …" She sneered, her lip curling up unattractively. "We should have known how you'd turn out."

"I turned out just fine," Hart bit out.

"Now, now, girls," Jackal stepped up. "No one's paying to see you two talk."

Misty grinned and stepped back, raising her fists.

Hart mirrored her pose, feeling jittery and nervous in the ring for the first time in weeks.

The bell rang and Misty moved. Unlike most of the girls, she didn't charge forward immediately. Instead, she circled. Hart shook her head, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet and looking for an opening. She wanted this fight to be over as quickly as possible.

Misty seemed content to wait her out. Hart's heart hammered in her throat, foggy childhood memories rising up at the sight of Misty's familiar face—the same and yet so different from when they were young. Misty's eyes were harder, her mouth crueler, her features painted starkly in dark makeup. The sight of her made Hart feel young and unsure.

She moved forward and took a swing that Misty easily dodged. The crowd roared its approval and Hart floundered.

Misty ducked to the side, leaving Hart to chase her. In the back of her mind she could hear a voice scolding her for being foolish, for doing all the work. A voice that sounded a lot like Ruby's exasperated tone.

Finally Misty dug in. She bent her knees low and aimed a few lightning-fast punches at Hart. Hart blocked them easily but felt shaken. It was clear that someone had bothered to train Misty—not much, but more than the other girls Hart had faced.

Her opponents were getting better as Jackal's girl fights grew in popularity, and Hart knew eventually she wouldn't be able to coast by on her superior training and experience.

Today was not that day.

Hart waited until Misty's fists rose high, blocking her face, and then kicked out. Her foot landed squarely on Misty's firm, exposed abdomen. The girl grunted and curled into herself. Hart came in with a cross hook that caught Misty hard on the jaw. Her head snapped back, her eyes flying open, shocked. She had probably never been punched before, Hart thought with a sneer. Slapped, cuffed, shaken, spit on but never punched.

She told herself not to enjoy the look on Misty's face.

Misty staggered forward, her eyes bright with anger. "You think it makes you better than me that you fight like a
man
?" She grabbed for Hart, scrabbling to get a hold of her even as Hart squirmed away, holding her stance. Misty's nails stung where they scraped at her flesh.

Hart was tired of this fight already. She ducked down and kicked her foot out, catching Misty behind her right ankle. A quick tug threw her off her balance. It was easy for Hart to throw her weight against Misty and carry her down to the floor.  She rolled on top of her, struggling to get her knees around Misty's thighs and pin her flailing legs.

"Get off me, you freak!" Misty spat, her body tense. "I'm not into girls the way you are."

Hart faltered, Ruby flashing into her mind. In her second's hesitation, Misty got a knee up between them, pushing Hart back enough to roll them.

She grinned triumphantly as she shoved Hart down into the mat.

Her hold was amateurish. Hart rolled her eyes and grabbed Misty's arm, the one supporting her weight on the mat beside Hart's head. She yanked violently, and Misty yelped; she tumbled down, her shoulder knocking against Hart's chest. Hart twisted, wrapping a leg over Misty's struggling form. She threw her weight up and rolled the girl, pinning her with her forearm tight across her throat. Misty gurgled beneath her hold, her eyes wide and accusing.

Hart looked away as Jackal called out her win.

Hart charged out of the gym as fast as possible, changing in record time. Misty's accusations still rang in her ears. It wasn't anything Hart hadn't heard before, but now, when Misty teased her that she 'liked girls', all Hart could think of was Ruby. All the insults that girls had thrown at her over the years—they were all true.

Hart slunk out the back door of the arena, ready to go home and leave this night behind. Looking for her car, she didn't hear the figure approach until a hand roughly grabbed her arm. The memory of the way Kemp had grabbed her immediately flooded her mind, and her blood pounded. But the man sneering at her wasn't nearly as big or as intimidating. He was well-dressed, a nicely cut suit covering his plump frame. His eyes were glassy enough that Hart knew he was drunk, having pissed his money away on the over-priced cocktails Jackal shilled inside.

She shook her arm to free it, but he clung tight.

"How much?" he slurred.

"How much what?" She didn't want to deal with the drunks and hecklers tonight; she just wanted to go home.

"For an hour?"

His breath stunk like booze and a sheen of sweat clung to his tanned skin. "An hour of what?"  The only thing the man needed was somewhere to pass out and a bucket to vomit in.

"For you," he said, a nasty sneer on his fat lips.

Hart froze. "I'm not for sale," she said, ripping her arm out of his grasp.

He laughed unpleasantly. "Of course you are. Now, you're not as pretty as the other girl, but I like a winner. So, how much?"

"I said, I'm not for sale," Hart snarled.

"Listen, girlie." He jabbed a meaty finger into her sternum. "Trash like you is always for sale. So stop pretending you're something you're not and tell me how much it's gonna be before I decide I like the look of someone else better."

"I don't care how much you like the look of me," Hart said fiercely. "Because I wouldn't let you touch me for all the money in the world." She fled before he could say anything else. As she slid into the car that waited for her at the curb, she could still smell his breath, the odor clinging to her nostrils.

Out the tinted window, she saw Misty. Her arm was tucked into the elbow of another well-dressed man, leading her away from the arena to a nearby car. The girl smiled winningly and Hart turned away.

*~*~*

She hadn't wanted to come back. Thoughts of the drunken man, of Misty, of the man on Misty's arm, kept Hart awake late into the night and haunted her thoughts the next few days. She kept to the shadows in the Gutter, worried about running into Misty again.

She didn't want to face any of that again, not taunts from girls she knew or harassment from men she didn't. But when Jackal summoned her, she came.

Hart's car pulled up to the arena, stalling at the curb to let her slide out. Jackal no longer escorted her to and fro, just sending a car for her with a faceless, voiceless driver behind the wheel.  Hart was growing used to the sights of the City as they sped past the window, the shining blur of wealth and waste.

She gazed up at the arena, a gilded theatre with her name spelled out in lights. The marquee blazed bright even in the neon glare of the surrounding buildings. Posters littered the front of the building, curling script announcing upcoming shows, dancers bending into impossible poses and tigers leaping off the page. Hart's gaze swept cursorily over them before catching on her own name. She stopped with a frown.

A smallish poster slapped crookedly over someone else's ad declared:

Beat the Champion and Win the Grand Prize!

$10,000 Bonus to Any Girl who Can Defeat the

Unstoppable Hart!

Hart's eyes widened and she tore the ad from the wall. It was printed on nauseatingly pink paper, the color her opponents always wore. Hart marched into the theatre, letting the door slam loudly behind her.

People milled around inside, tidying the lobby, setting up the concession stand and the ticket booth and preparing for the fight. Men in jackets hurried to and fro, ready to seat the audience as they funneled inside. Hart sneered at them as she stomped past, looking for a familiar blond head.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded.

Jackal turned, raising an eyebrow at her stormy face. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt, darlin'?"

Hart barely spared a glance at the man Jackal had been speaking to. "Yeah, well, this is pretty rude too," she said, brandishing the flyer.

Jackal let his gaze slip down to the paper in her hand, a smirk curling over his lips as he saw what it was.

"Now, now. What's unfair about inspiring some healthy competition?"

"Do I get the bonus if I win?" Hart demanded.

Jackal's smirk widened. "Can't get a bonus for beatin' yourself, can you?"

"Then it's completely unfair!"

"Look, sweetheart," Jackal said, grabbing her arm to draw her aside. Hart shook him free with a glare.  "No one likes you. Hell, I'm your biggest supporter, and
I
don't even like you."

Hart scowled.

"You're a bitch, plain and simple. You won't go out into the crowd, you won't mingle. You sneer and snarl your way through this place like they all owe you somethin'."

"I'm not asking for anything but my dignity," Hart said, thinking of the kind of 'mingling' the other girls did with the crowd.

"And that's askin' too much," Jackal said with a shrug. "There are plenty of other girls who would love the opportunities you're getting. Who'd seem a bit more
grateful
for the chance to earn fifty dollars and keep their clothes on."

"Doesn't sound like you want me to keep my clothes on," Hart muttered.

"Hey. What the girls do when they leave the arena isn't any of my business," Jackal defended.

"You hired me as a fighter. Which I do.
Well
. No one said anything about smiling or spreading my legs."

"But that's what brings the crowds in, dollface."

"Then why not just fire me?" Hart snapped.

"People don't like you," Jackal repeated. "Doesn't mean they want to see you disappear. It means they want to see you
beaten
. They keep comin' back hoping someone will finally put you in your place."

Hart crossed her arms. "And I'm just supposed to go along with that?"

"Along with what?" Jackal laughed. "You're getting paid to fight, exactly like you wanted. No one's asking anything more of you. You said yourself, you don't care what they think of you. So why does it matter if they come because they like you or because they hate you?"

"But—" She waved the flyer under his nose.

"You get paid fifty dollars. It's none of your concern what I choose to pay a girl who beats you, as long as she beats you fair and square. And hey," Jackal said cheerfully. "Maybe it'll get you some real opponents for a change. Had twenty girls apply already today."

"Great," Hart muttered, crumpling the bright pink paper in her hand. Leo's arena hadn't had the gold gilding or the red velvet seats. It hadn't had the fancy concession stand or sold glasses of champagne. The people didn't put on suits to fill his seats. But Leo had given a crap about her, Hart was sure. When she won, the people cheered
for
her. She fought well and they liked her.

The whole sport was diseased, but at least at Leo's place, it felt honest.

*~*~*

Hart stepped into the ring. More jeers than cheers greeted her, hurled by an audience that had tired of her. She refused to care. Squaring her shoulders, Hart faced them, her expression stony, her chin held high. She gazed out over the faces disdainfully. Let them hate her, she thought. She hated them too.

And then she saw one face that wasn't twisted with contempt. A face with sympathetic green eyes, framed by a mass of red curls.

Ruby.

Chapter Thirteen

The fight passed in a blur. Hart was barely aware of the kicks and punches she threw or of the snarl on her opponent's face. All she could see was Ruby, her face burned into Hart's retinas. And also sitting right there in front of her, in the second row of the audience. Leo wasn't with her, so Ruby must have come of her own volition, and Hart desperately wished she knew what that meant. She grabbed her opponent's shoulders, jerking Amber down sharply so Hart's knee could connect with her solar plexus. Amber gasped for breath and wobbled on shaky legs, and Hart could only think about the fact that Ruby was watching. It wouldn't have been easy, getting a pass into the City even just for one night. Ruby must have gone out of her way to be there.

Hart's opponent fell easily, a swift kick to her delicate ankle hobbling her enough for Hart to bear her down to the mat. She met Ruby's gaze again from her position on top of Amber, as she pressed the other girl's face mercilessly into the mat. Ruby stared back at her, her expression unreadable.

She looked just as beautiful as Hart remembered.

Hart was out of the ring practically before Jackal could even announce her win, snatching the purse out of his grubby fingers and sliding between the ropes.

She saw Ruby rise from her seat and make her way through the shuffling crowd. Hart paused by the door to the changing room, glancing over her shoulder and catching Ruby's eye before going inside.

It was only a minute later that Ruby followed.

"Hi."

Hart felt like her stomach was in her throat, choking her. She swallowed around the excess saliva pooling in her mouth, willing the churning of her stomach to subside. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you fight."

"Why? Thinking of signing up?" Hart asked, thinking of the bright pink flyer pasted all over the front of the building.