Playing with Fire

Grandma waved her hand up in the air without lifting her eyes from her knitting.

“You be careful, Gracie-Mae. And if you drink, please give me a call. I’ll pick you up.”

I stopped dead in front of the door. She spoke like the old Grams. The coherent one. My throat burned with tears.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “Karlie’s the designated driver. She’ll have a dry night, and so will I.”

“Contreras blood runs true. Karlie took after her momma. She’s a real good kid.” Grams nodded approvingly, taking a sip of her tea.

Why couldn’t she be like this all the time?

Karlie honked again, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“All right! I’m off!”

“Ta-ta. Oh, and Gracie-Mae?”

“Yeah?” I paused, halfway out the door.

“Come back home when the first streetlamp goes on. Curfew’s at six-thirty, young lady.”

It was already nine. My smile collapsed, and the dull ache in my chest resumed.

Not completely lucid after all.

“I’ll be sure to do that, Grams.”

We got to Sheridan Plaza ten minutes late and spent fifteen minutes driving around looking for a parking space. Karlie had to drive extra slow because there were clusters of people marching toward the Plaza, laughing, drinking, and making out. I hadn’t realized the fighting ring was that big an event in Sheridan. Friday Night Lights had nothing on this thing.

I knew West wasn’t the only guy who fought—there were about five fights every Friday—but he was always the main event and the reason tickets sold like hotcakes.

On our fourth round trying to find a parking space, a senior jock signaled Karlie to roll her window down. She did.

“Y’all gonna run outta gas if you keep circling the lot. Park wherever you can; they don’t give out tickets around here, doll.”

Karlie flashed me a disapproving glance.

“I didn’t know your boy was that popular.”

“Stop callin’ him my boy,” I half-asked, half-begged. I couldn’t allow myself to believe it.

“You’re right. If you date him, I will punch your tit. Your heart’s too good for this guy, Shaw.”

We parked and stabbed the dunes with our high heels, ascending toward the Plaza. We paid at the entrance—twenty bucks a pop, by no means a cheap night out—and proceeded inside.

There were dozens of people crammed into the second floor. College age crowd, but also a few randoms who were clearly in high school or way past twenty-five. Everybody was holding red Solo cops, chatting and laughing as two shirtless guys fought in the ring. They were clearly just the warm-up act, because nobody paid much attention.

There was no sign of West or his friends.

“I’ll beer us.” Karlie tilted her head toward a dude who stood behind a few crates, pouring keg beer into cups.

I nodded. “I’ll go find West, wish him good luck.”

“No canoodling.” She waved a finger my way.

I saluted her before wandering about, scanning for his face. Realizing he was nowhere near the ring, I strolled toward the small bare rooms with the mattresses. At first, I peeked into each of them, trying to spot West. But after encountering a guy jerking off, half-dressed, as two cheerleaders licked each other, I passed them swiftly, not looking sideways.

Groans and moans rose from the mattresses in the coves. I hated this place. Absolutely despised it. And with every single second that ticked by, the possibility I was going to find West with someone else became more and more real. I wanted to be sick. Why had I thought it was a good idea to come here?

He warned you not to. Called it a cum dumpster. You are not even welcome here.

I was about to turn around and run for my life when his gruff voice came from behind one of the concrete walls.

“You need to give it a rest,” West growled.

“Question is, do you give Tess a rest?” another voice—Easton, I assumed by his neutral, sensible tone, countered. “You know, between rounds.”

There was a burst of male laughter and the sound of beer cans cracking open.

“Don’t tell me you’re still tapping her ass?”

That was definitely Reign De La Salle speaking. My stomach churned and twisted. The guy was a total tool.

“Relax, asshole. You know I never tap it twice. Although, I’m not opposed to fucking her every which way if you continue getting on my nerves.”

“Is that a threat?” Reign screeched.

“Nah, it’s a promise.”

“You don’t make any promises,” Easton pointed out. That much was true.

“For an ass like Tess’, I’m willing to make an exception.”

I stumbled backwards before I heaved and threw up. A sharp stab of jealousy cut me open. I bled out so many dark feelings, my head was spinning.

Wariness. Distrust. Heartbreak.

Lord, why did it feel like my heart had been blown to the sky? He hadn’t even kissed me, and I was already scarily possessive toward him.

Dashing back toward the ring, I glanced behind my shoulder to make sure they didn’t see me.