“Exclusive,” I repeat, the word sitting wrong in my mouth. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means private,” Freddy chimes in. “Invitation only. Very lucrative for the right kind of person.”
“Art’s not a fighter,” I say. “He’s never thrown a punch in his life. He cried when we watchedRocky.”
“I didn’t cry,” Art mutters.
“Not really the time, Art.”
Brutus grins. “Do you have another suggestion for how I should recoup my losses?”
His gaze drags over me, assessing.
“Your father tells meyou’requite the brawler. All those fights at school. All those arrests your family paid to make disappear…wasted potential, isn’t that what you’ve said, Craig?”
I look at my father, but he won’t meet my eyes. He’s staring at his desk like the wood grain is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
“Your nanny. What was her name, Beverly?”
My entire body stiffens. “Don’t bring her into this.”
Brutus smiles now and puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ve simply spoken to her, son. She told me you’ve known how to fight since you were little, is that right?”
“So what?”
I wait for someone to tell me this is a joke, some fucked-up birthday prank Art and my father cooked up together, but nobody speaks. I glance at my best friend again, and he lookslike a kid who just watched his dog get hit by a car.
“Art. Did you know about this?”
He shakes his head. “I thought they’d just want money. I thought maybe your dad could make it disappear like he does everything else.”
“Andyourdad?”
He gulps and stares at the ground.
Right.He doesn’t want his dad to know. Art spends forever trying to be out from under his shadow while simultaneously being afraid of getting left behind.
“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Mayor Penngrove finds out his boy’s been gambling with people like me, and suddenly his entire career goes up in smoke,” Brutus says. “I’m offering a solution that keeps everyone’s hands clean.”
“Except mine.”
Brutus dips his chin. “Except yours.”
The room feels smaller than it did five minutes ago. The fire crackles in the hearth, and I’m suddenly aware of how hot it is, how the sweat prickles on my neck, how my heart beats too fast for someone who’s supposed to be drunk and relaxed on his eighteenth birthday.
“This is insane,” I say. “You know that, right? This is actually insane.”
“It’s business,” Freddy corrects. “Nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal.” I laugh, and it sounds unhinged even to my own ears. “You’re asking me to…what? Fight people? For how long? Where? In some basement somewhere?”
“The details aren’t important,” Brutus says. “What’s important is whether you’re willing to step up for your friend.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then Arthur’s debt remains unpaid, and I’ll have to collect it another way.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
