Chapter 2
TWO
Saniya Montgomery.
“It’s late, Joe.”
“Well hello to you too, Saniya.” I glanced at the time on the Mac screen that illuminated the room to gauge how late it was.
“My manners expire at midnight.”
Joe chuckled and I waited for him to get to the point. I was in the middle of responding to comments on my blog about the tutorial I’d posted a few days ago on capturing the perfect nature shot with natural lighting.
“I have something for you.”
“My schedule’s pretty full right now.”
“Your schedule’s always full.”
I grinned while I typed out a sincere thank you to one of the ladies who left a comment singing my praises for the free tutorials I posted monthly. The woman explained how photography was an escape turned passion, going into further detail about how she couldn’t afford formal training. That left her to rely on YouTube until she came across my blog. The step-by-step how-tos had given her more knowledge than anything she’d come across. My tutorials helped the woman land her first paid gig.
“Well, word on the street is that I’m pretty damn good so…”
“Not arrogant at all, are you, kid?”
“I’m twenty-eight Joe.”
“And I could be your father. Damn that sounds worse saying it out loud. Anyway, you’re a kid to me. Do you want to hear about the job or not?”
“I’m listening, but I’m not promising anything.”
“Of course not. That’s not your m.o. There’s this underground fighting ring…”
“Nope, I don’t do illegal, Joe. You know that.”
“It’s not illegal. Just exclusive. It’s hosted by legitimate training gyms.”
“They bet on the fighters?”
“Yeah, but?—”
“Then it’s illegal and I don’t do illegal.”
“The betting is done in a way that legitimizes it. From what I’ve heard, they do bids as sort of a sponsorship.”
“But there are winners and large amounts of money circulate based on those winners I’m sure.”
“I don’t know all the details and don’t care. I just want the story as an inside source. It’s a really big thing and growing in popularity. A lot of these fighters end up turning professional and I want in before they make it that far. From what I hear, there’s a lot of raw, undiscovered talent in our city. We can run the story and create the buzz. What people want more than anything are things that aren’t accessible to everyone. The first to the party is always the trendsetter. That’s how these types of things work. You have the best eye, Saniya. You’ll make it look good and capture the rawness. Images sell the story. No one shoots like you.”
“Which is why my schedule is full.”
“Come on, kid. I’ll make it worth your while. You know I’m good for it.”
“What do you know?”
I wasn’t necessarily thrilled about the prospect but I was always about my coins and rarely ever turned down good money. I also knew that if Joe—who owned Inside Track Diamond Falls, which had millions of followers—was indeed the one to break the story with my photos attached then it pushed me further into the arena to get national recognition. Every photographer dreamed of having that moment when that perfect shot went viral. If I could get one of an up and coming fighter then it might help catapult my career.
“The fights happen every third Friday of the month.”
“That’s in two days.”
“Yeah and you have to know someone who knows someone to get inside. The location is not sent until hours before the fights. That’s all I know.”
“So how the hell do you expect me to get an in?”
“You’re you . If anyone can get the invite, I know you can. The place is called Matrix.”
I grinned again. It was true. I was a revered staple in the city. My work preceded me and spoke to my skillset as a photographer. I was also solid by way of minding my business and never exposing things in ways that harmed people or their careers. That gave me an in around the city that most weren’t granted. I breached some of the most exclusive events. Important parties, underground concerts given by artists as a thank you to loyal fans, and exclusive once in a lifetime listening parties. If it happened, I had access.
“Maybe,” was all I gave. I was the type who relied on her word. I never made promises I couldn’t keep, which meant that maybe was all Joe would get until I did a little digging.
“I’ll take maybe. Get back to me soon?”
“Yep, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, Saniya. Goodnight.”
“Nite, Joe.”
The next night I found myself pushing through a thick crowd of a local club. One that didn’t offer valet parking and VIP sections for local celebrities because they wouldn’t dare be caught dead or alive in a dump like The Pit. It was, however, the perfect place to get inside information about the things happening in the city that only a select few would have details about.
This wasn’t my scene, but for the night it served a purpose which meant dealing with the dark, smoke-filled space humming with a heavy bass beat I could feel thrumming through my limbs. The place was packed, as always, with hundreds of bodies crammed shoulder-to-shoulder on the dance floor which sat just below the DJ booth.
The stage lighting illuminated from the elevated platform, shining upward, presenting the perception that he was a god flanked by his followers. In a way, that was somewhat true. The DJ set the tone and controlled the mood with the perfect blend of tracks that kept patrons moving in sync to the beat vibrating through the floor.
As I approached the bar, pushing between an empty stool and a woman dressed in next to nothing, I tossed a hand in the air to signal for the bartender. My ears were uncomfortably sensitive to the cocktail of voices that collided around me in an incoherent sort of shouting.
I hope I don’t have to be here long.
“What can I get you?” A tall, beefy guy wearing black jeans and T-shirt a few sizes too small approached, leaning across the sleek, glossed wood bar top. Almost the entire surface was littered with glasses and bottles positioned in front of occupants who were lost in the music or conversation.
“Water, bottled, and I’ll open it myself.”
Beefy Guy grinned, extending to his full height. “You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t know you; so that would be a no.”
He chuckled but it was lost to the track pounding out around us and I was grateful he didn’t attempt to flirt. Instead, he left to hopefully fill my drink order even if it was only bottled water. While he was busy behind the bar, checking in with other patrons, I shifted onto the empty stool, turning toward the crowd to take in the scene.
My fingers were itching to capture a few shots but all I had at the present was a cellphone. The chaos around me was the perfect backdrop to steal some great stills and I did my best work when there wasn’t an obvious target. I lived for finding the beauty hidden in things and the sea of bodies was definitely a diamond in the rough.
A tap on my shoulder had me turning back toward the bar to find Beefy Guy placing two clear, plastic bottles down which he pushed my way.
“I only need one.”
“The other’s on the house. Consider it a gift.”
“Nope, I’ll pay.”
I leaned back, digging out a twenty, which I extended his way. “Keep the change.”
“Sure thing, even though I’m insulted.” He smirked but accepted the cash.
“You want to do me a solid?”
I waited while his eyes did a slow crawl, fully taking me in. In contrast to the other women around me, I was dressed in jeans that, although they hugged my body, didn’t compete. The loose-fitting graphic tee I paired them with also didn’t scream choose me.
As opposed to the other women who were baring it all in short, second skin type, revealing outfits. Either way, the guy didn’t seem disappointed. Regardless of my fit, I was physically appealing. My warm brown skin was cared for, which meant a flawless complexion on a face that housed naturally pouty lips, thin, honey-colored, almond-shaped eyes, and a crown full of thick natural hair that framed my face and brushed my shoulders. I was a beautiful woman without putting my body on display.
“Sounds like a trick question but I’ll bite.” He leaned over the bar once more, angling himself in my direction.
“Tell me what you know about the underground fights everyone’s buzzing about. Matrix.”
His expression dropped briefly but that smile of his returned in a matter of seconds.
“Not a damn thing.”
“Aww, come on. You’re lying. I saw that thing your face did.”
“I think I should be offended.”
I offered a smile of my own. This one more flirty. “Not at all. It’s a very nice face, but also a very telling one. What do you know?”
“I know that it’s not the type of scene a woman like you would enjoy.”
“A woman like me?” I arched a brow and he chuckled.
“ This isn’t your scene, so seeing men beat each other until there’s bloodshed or a knockout doesn’t fit, pretty girl. Those aren’t going to be your type of people, trust me.”
“I’m not looking to make friends. I’m just intrigued. Truthfully, I’m a photographer and I’m hoping to capture something unique.”
“No can do. It’s exclusive for a reason.”
“Agreed. I’m not a cop and from what I heard, it wouldn’t matter because it’s not illegal.”
“You’re definitely not a cop and I don’t know what you’ve heard but the shit is very illegal.” His eyes traveled my body from head to toe again before he leaned over the bar. “Photographer, huh? What’s your name?”
“Saniya Montgomery.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“Seriously?” I smiled approvingly. It wasn’t unlikely that he had.
“Yeah, from what I’ve heard you’re pretty solid too. You’re the one who managed to get an invite to Leijah’s listening party. I heard that was damn near impossible because they didn’t want the songs leaked, but you managed to be there. The people like you.”
“They do, so hook me up.”
He groaned, allowing his eyes to dance around before stalking off without warning. He made his way to the register which he opened and lifted the cash tray, returning to me with something in his hand.
I smiled when he placed it on the bar and used a finger to slide it toward me.
“What’s this?”
“The number you text to request an invite. They’re selective and there are no guarantees that you’ll get a response. That’s the best I can do.”
“Good enough, thanks.”
I lifted the matte black card with a number and the words fight night printed in a serif gray font.
“Can I keep this?”
“No, save the number. I need to hang on to it.”
“Bet.” I slipped my hand into my pocket and it resurfaced with my phone. I typed the number and fight night into my notes and handed the card back to the bartender.
I had what I came for which meant it was time to head home. I wrapped my hand around one bottle of water, holding up my other hand which held the phone.
“Thanks for this.”
“You’re leaving my gift?” He motioned to the water I left on the bar top.
“Nope, that’s the one I paid for.” I winked and he chuckled as I navigated my way through the crowd to leave only to be stopped a few minutes later by a pair of unwanted hands grabbing me from behind, jerking me against a warm, sweaty body.
“Dance with me?” The lingering scent of liquor wafted into my nose at the same time hot breath fanned across the side of my face.
“Not interested, get your hands off me.” I lifted my foot and came down hard on a booted foot planted beside me, causing enough damage for the guy to release his grip. I attempted to escape only to be jerked back again by a hand fisting the back of my shirt. I turned to face the assailant and immediately realized the man was a handful of drinks beyond his limit.
“What the fuck is your problem, bitch? All I asked for was a dance.”
“My problem is, you put your hands on me without my permission and I declined the offer.”
The guy wasn’t bad looking. Decent looks and build but he was barely standing which meant he had no business asking anyone to dance. I also wasn’t interested and he had no right to put his hands on me.
“It’s just one dance.” His hands launched forward in a failed attempt to grab me again but his balance was shaky from the alcohol and all he managed was to grab ahold of the hem of my shirt.
I dropped the bottled water, curled my fingers into a fist, and landed a solid hit to his face. I leaned into it, just like I’d been taught in the handful of self-defense classes I took years ago, only relaxing my stance at the sight of his head snapping back.
The guy swayed, grabbing his jaw briefly and lunging faster than my mind could process, fisting a handful of hair. While my head jerked toward the asshole, something flashed before my face and the attacker’s grip went slack. His eyes rolled back in his head with his body dropping to the floor in what felt like slow motion. I stumbled away and caught sight of an extended, tattooed arm that caught my hips forcefully enough to steady me.
“You good?”
I managed to lower my eyes to the unconscious man at my feet before they held the stare of the stranger who put him there.
“Great, actually. Thank you.”
“You said no, he didn’t listen. Maybe next time he will.”
Before I managed to formulate a response, the sea of bodies parted, allowing him a clear path before he disappeared into the mass of patrons who seemed oblivious to what had just taken place. After standing dumbfounded for a moment longer, I took off in the opposite direction to leave.
At least I got what I came for.
I pushed through the front door, allowing my eyes to sweep the dark, overcrowded parking lot. A feeling of ease traveled through my body when I spotted my car near the front. Once I was safely inside, I finally exhaled the tension from the past ten minutes and smiled at the memory of the tattooed man in faded jeans and running shoes who likely prevented a bad situation from turning disastrous.
Flexing my throbbing hand a few times, I rolled my eyes before shaking my head, not believing I’d punched a guy in the face. After unlocking my phone and sending a text to Joe to let him know I might have an in, I tossed the device onto the passenger seat. There were photos to edit waiting at home, so my mind was no longer on the club or the mystery man who came to my rescue.