“You have another fight?”
I looked over at him. “Maybe.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I didn’t respond.
“You know I’m not judging you, right?” He set his mug in the sink. “I just think those fights are sketchy as hell.”
I rested my hip against the counter. “They pay cash.”
“That doesn’t make them any less sketchy.”
“No.” I took another sip of the shitty coffee. “But I need the money if I ever want to get a place of my own.”
He scratched his jaw. “You could ask Sal for more hours.”
“I already did.”
“And?”
“And he gave me two more lunch shifts and said business was slow.”
Sal did everything he could to help, but it wasn’t enough. Not when I was paying for my own gas, insurance, trying to keep my car running, and feeding myself.
Without the fights, I’d probably be a week away from being completely fucked.
I didn’t go out looking for them at first. It just kind of happened.
Six months ago, a couple of guys came into Sal’s, and I overheard them talking about some illegal fights they’d just attended. I started a conversation with them and found out there could be easy money in it if I didn’t mind getting hit. The first fight had been in an abandoned warehouse in South Sacramento. There weren’t many rules or medical staff—just a bunch of drunk guys throwing cash around and cheering every time they saw blood.
I’d been in enough fights in high school to know I could take a punch, and I thought getting paid to do so wouldn’t be bad.
It was a stupid way to think, but it wasn’t as if I had a ton of other opportunities beating down my door.
I told myself I was only going to do it once.
That was six fights ago.
The Sacramento ones paid decently. Reno paid better, especially if the right people were there betting. I didn’t enjoy driving that far, but I loved waking up with a few hundred extra dollars in my pocket.
Maybe ‘love’ wasn’t the right word.
Ineededthe extra cash.
“Well, hopefully something will pan out soon.”
“I hope so too,” I agreed.
My Elantra didn’t handlethe drive up the pass well, and I spent half of it watching the temperature gauge, worried the engine would overheat at any second, but it lasted long enough to get me into Reno, which was all I really cared about.
The address I’d been given took me to a place far from downtown. I found no sign or lights, only a flickering bulb over a side door, and a lot of cars parked on the gravel.
Most of the places I’d been to had the same vibe.
I should have arrived earlier, but traffic getting out of Sac had been even worse than normal, so I was running late. I grabbed my duffel from the passenger seat, pushed the door open, and got out of my car. A couple of guys were standing nearby, smoking, and they gave me a once-over before they looked away again. No one asked questions. I headed inside.
It was larger than I expected, with a makeshift cage set up in the middle, and people gathered around it on all sides. Some pressed right up against the fencing, while others sat back with drinks in their hands, shouting over one another.
