Pushing the Limit

Dash

Isit in the VIP lounge sulking. I don’t know what else to call it. My mood soured the moment I stepped inside Haven and saw Owen and Peppermint dancing. Not to the jukebox. That’s our thing. But to the live band. The place is fucking packed, the Harlots able to keep the fight night scheduled, but I instantly zeroed in on them. His hands rested on her luscious ass. She smiled as she gazed up at him. So, yes, I’m sulking.

Aside from seeing them, I had another visit with my mom. She’s convinced my dad will be with her once his wife dies. More lies. And she keeps falling for them. Jesse accepts it, knowing we can’t change her mind, but I can’t be around her while she lets him fool her all over again.

Tonight may wind up being good for me, considering the mood I’m in. The club paid the fees for us all to enter the fighting competition. Figured it was the least we could do to help out since their liquor license was suspended because we killed a cop’s brother.

Their idea to charge an entry and cover fee for the event was genius. Pay one flat rate fee and get drinks for the night. They were even smart enough to set the passes up based on the number of drinks that would be served. Technically, they aren’t violating the suspension. The drinks are advertised as free, so there’s no recorded charge for them. Still borderline illegal, but no one in here is going to report them.

Take that, Officer Whitfield.

“Hey, they’re getting ready to draw the names for the fights. You coming down?” Munsey asks, peeking his head in.

Nodding, I get up and slowly walk toward the door. I trot down the stairs and lean against the wall, arms crossed. Lina climbs onto the bar, fishbowl in hand, and Allie hands her a microphone.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here for our fight night!” she says, and the crowd cheers. “I apologize that we’ve been closed lately. Let me ask, how do y’all like those free drinks?”

The crowd cheers again, and I spot Peppermint standing beside Owen, the two clapping and cheering along with everyone else. A young guy stands on her other side, and it’s easy to see the resemblance between them. Must be her son.

“We had several entries for our event. We’re going to keep this as fair as possible, grouping each of you fighters into the appropriate weight class. I have the lightweight fighters in this bowl. We’re starting with that division first. I’ll draw the names randomly and pair you up. I think everyone knows how this works, but in case you don’t, here are the rules. Winners will advance to the semi-finals and then the final round. It’s going to be a long night!”

I’m ready to get this shit over with. I fucking hate watching the two of them. The more I watch them, the more I’m reminded that I blew my damn chance with her. And that he swooped right the fuck in.

“Dash!” Lina calls out, drawing my name. I don’t even remember who else she’s already called. “He will be fighting Owen!”

You’re shitting me. You are fucking shitting me. I’ve been wanting a piece of that asshole ever since he called me “boy” for the first time. Guess I have a good reason to stay now.

Lina finishes pairing up the fighters. Owen and I are third to fight. And I can’t fucking wait. I walk over to the bar and get a beer, not wanting to get drunk before the fight but needing a little something to take the edge off.

“I haven’t seen you around much tonight,” Peppermint comments, handing me a beer.

“Kind of difficult when you’re up Owen’s ass, don’t you think?”

She stiffens, and I feel like shit for saying it. Before I can apologize, she moves down the bar and starts helping the other patrons, officially ignoring me.

“What are the odds?” Owen approaches, slapping his hand on my shoulder.

“In my favor.”

He chuckles condescendingly. “The odds aren’t in your favor any more than they are of nailing Piper.”

He calls her by her real name, and I wonder what she thinks of that. Does she prefer that? I’ve always called her Peppermint. She’s always called me Dash. It’s worked for us.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” I ask, turning and pointing to the jukebox. “I ate her sweet pussy right there against that jukebox. Right before I fucked her.”

His jaw clenches, knowing I’m telling the truth. There isn’t a hint of a lie in my tone.

“We’ll settle this in the ring. You win, I back off. I win, you don’t fucking look at her again,” he offers.

“Deal.”

“See you in the ring,” he says, taking a few steps before looking over his shoulder and saying, “boy.”