Chapter 22
RIPTIDE
When we step inside the warehouse, a fighting ring with a wire cage around it is lit up in the center of the carvernous space. The place is packed with men. I can’t see any women in the crowd at all.
“Oooh, Lordy,” Agnes says.
Suddenly, Rig’s friend Jake appears through a gap in the crowd. “Problems?” he says to Konstantin, and his eyes widen on the five of us.
“What the hell?” he barks. “Rig said you could come, Carly. Not … not …” He gestures at Marni and the old ladies.
“Angelo invited her,” I say, jerking my thumb at Marni, “and these guys turned up uninvited.” I point at Marge, Agnes, and June.
Konstantin’s eyebrows snap together. “You’re Angelo’s woman?” he growls at Marni.
Marni shakes her head. “It’s a casual thing. Blowjobs only.” And Konstantin’s eyes heat as his gaze lands on her mouth.
Oh, Jesus.
“Never mind,” Jake says. “I’m not going to tell Rig who you brought with you. Let’s find you somewhere away from the floor. Follow me.”
He leads us through the crowd and up toward the back, and then I notice there are stands with some raised seating farther back. Jake ushers us into an unoccupied row.
“You have to keep out of this,” he rumbles. “Rig wants to know you’re here, but you need to stay safe, you understand me? Just lay low: Don’t move from here, don’t talk to anyone.”
Looking at all the people, I totally get him. It’s full of rough-looking guys, some with shaved heads and a lot of tattoos. People you wouldn’t want to meet on the street late at night, who’d probably knife you without blinking.
“This is intense,” I say, waving my hand around. It’s nothing like a crazy fight in the grass on the hill near Nowheresville.
“It kind of is and isn’t. It’s run properly, because big money is riding on it.
See those guys in the suits?” Jake asks, and I realize there are men with earpieces and matching dark-blue suits wandering through the crowd, occasionally stopping to talk to someone.
“They’re taking floor bets and making sure people behave themselves. ”
“Do people have weapons?”
Jake shakes his head. “The suits have them, but everyone else is thoroughly searched before they come in; they have to go through a metal detector. It’s a sharp operation, tightly controlled. None of this was here two hours ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“No ring. No stands. It’ll be gone an hour after the fight. Cops are paid off.” He raises his chin. “I need to get back to Rig.” He pats my shoulder and heads off down the steps, weaving in among the crowd and disappearing behind a curtain at the far side.
For once, the old ladies are quiet.
“This reminds me of the things my dad told me about World War II,” Agnes says. “Cockfights, dog racing. He said men needed somewhere to blow off steam.”
A man pulls himself up on the other side of the cage and opens the door, stepping into the ring.
“Gentlemen!” he says, and the room suddenly quiets.
“As you know, we have an action-packed and long-anticipated agenda tonight. Suffice to say, you are going to witness some of the best fighting on the circuit! First up, we have the Beast, three-time MMA champion, against Joe Alagulio, the Alligator—up-and-coming star of the rags-to-riches program at the Chicago Gyms and Stadiums, under the management of our very own Edward O’Rourke!
A cheer goes up.
“The fight will start in ten minutes. Place your last bets, gentlemen. Fill your flasks! The fun is about to begin!”
June rubs her hands together. “This is going to be amazing.”
Agnes pulls a flask out of her pocket. “What’s that?” I say.
“The thermos had tea in it. This is for the hooch.”
“The hooch?”
Marni smirks at me.
“They make their own, by all accounts,” Marge says, leaning across Agnes. She makes a head-exploding motion with her hands. Oh, Jesus, drunk little old ladies, that’s all I need. Are they even allowed alcohol on their meds? I run through it in my mind. How do they know all this stuff?
“I want to try it,” Agnes says, clearly seeing my expression.
June pats my hand. “Don’t you worry, we’ll be sensible.”
“Marge has already tried to shoot someone and rolled in the dirt.” I eye all the stains on her nylon pants and matching zip-up jacket.
“Pfft,” Marge says. “It’ll wash out.”
Most of the time, these ladies find it hard to shuffle to the bathroom. God knows how they’re going to survive this. Carried along by adrenaline, I suppose.
Marni must read my mind because she says, “Ladies, sit down. I’ll go buy us some hooch.”
She takes Agnes’s flask and pulls another one out of her pocket.
I gape at her as she heads off down to the floor.
The crowd parts like it’s the Second Coming, except most people wouldn’t be ogling Christ’s ass after he walked past them.
I should not have let her go down there.
But she finds someone who’s selling the booze from some contraption on their back like they do with beer at fairs, and she returns in five minutes, flasks brimming with some liquid.
I take a sip and immediately start coughing. Holy shit.
No sooner has she handed the first flask to Marge than a great roar rises from the crowd as loud music starts pumping through the building, and a huge mountain of a man appears from behind the purple velvet curtain.
He’s punching his fist in the air, surrounded by an entourage of people.
Is this the Beast? He is way bigger than Rig.
Oh fuck.
“If they’re all this size, our Rig is going to be annihilated,” Agnes mutters, echoing my racing thoughts.
The guy reaches the ring, parading around, black silk shorts catching the light as people whoop and holler.
I glance over at Marge, and her eyes are shining, and suddenly I’m glad, so fucking glad, that I brought the old ladies with me.
Who wants to sit at home feeling old and incapable, watching yourself decline daily?
They should be out doing stuff. I swear, when we’re back in town, I’m taking them for more days out.
Another roar rips through the crowd as a second guy comes through the curtain, body glistening with oil. He’s short, dark, and rough-looking; about half the size of the man in the ring. No way. No way are these two going to fight. This guy’s going to get crushed.
A chant starts in the crowd, and I can’t make out what they’re saying, but the Alligator, too, clearly has a lot of fans in this makeshift arena.
“I think we need someone who understands the form here,” Marni mutters, and she leans forward and taps the shoulder of a man in front of us. All I hear is “Tell me more about the fighters,” and, amazingly, he’s happy to oblige.
In no time at all, they’re facing off against each other, and the whistle blows, and the short, stocky guy launches himself at the Beast by springing up and aiming a kick to his head. And, dear God, it lands. There’s a huge roar from the crowd as the big guy staggers back against the cage.
“Ooo, Lordy,” Agnes says from beside me as the Beast tries to shake it off. He bounces off the wire mesh and charges, but Joe the Alligator is fast and furious, snapping out kicks and punches, and I can see why he’s up and coming. He’s so fucking fast.
“Remind me why we came to see two guys beating the shit out of each other,” I say to Marni, after watching the Beast land a punch that makes the Alligator’s head snap back and blood run down from a cut on his forehead into his eyes.
“Because it’s exciting!” she shouts over the roar of the crowd, and when I turn to look, the Beast has the Alligator on the ground and is pounding his head into it. Fuck.
I’m not sure what causes me to glance at the purple curtain, but Rig is there, face serious, studying the fight, arms folded across his chest as he talks to Jake.
Jake points and gestures, discussing something, and my heart leaps into my throat.
I’m going to have to watch Rig go through this. I mean, I knew that, but oh, Jesus.
The guys who are fighting are off the ground now, and I’ve missed what happened. As I turn to Marni to ask her, she’s disappeared, and Konstantin is standing at the end of our row, his head bent down as he speaks to her and waves his arm.
My eyes are drawn back to the fight again, but then Marni appears at my side, sipping from the flask and handing it to me.
I think I’m going to need some fortification.
I was planning on not drinking and sharing the five-hour drive back with Marni overnight, but I can see that’s a crazy strategy now.
We’re going to have to find a cheap motel and all squash into one room.
She’s drinking, and there’s no way I’ll survive this if I don’t have some liquid courage.
“Okay, so Konstantin says it’s MMA rules. The format is a set of three rounds, five minutes each.”
A massive roar rises from the crowd as the Alligator lands another kick to his opponent’s head, and I can’t believe how high that guy can jump.
The Beast staggers and sags against the wire.
The referee blows a whistle and starts counting as the Beast closes his eyes.
I can’t watch. As a nurse, I just can’t fucking watch this.
The Alligator is bent over, breathing hard.
The referee counts it out, and the whistle sounds again, and the Alligator erupts, punching his fist in the air.
The crowd goes wild. The men in front of us are shouting and waving their fists, then there’s a huge surge on the other side of the ring, and I see punches flying. Holy crap.
“What’s going on?”
“No idea,” Marni says.
But it soon becomes clear that a full-on fight has started at the far side of the room, spreading around to the people by the ringside in front of us.
Then suddenly all the guys in suits are wading into the middle of it all and holding people back.
The MC comes running down the aisle from behind the velvet curtain and leaps into the cage, grabbing the microphone.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen! Unless we have calm, the fights cannot continue.”