Slamming Demon (Pounding Hearts 2)

“Seriously, though,” Grace says, sobering. “Aren’t you afraid of running into Brett? Isn’t he like an MMA star now? You’re kind of impeding on his turf.”

I sigh and take another huge bite of my sundae. If we’re going talk about Brett I’m going to need more chocolate.

“No. Yes. Maybe? I mean I’ve already run into him and I survived it. Maybe next time it won’t be as bad?”

Grace frowns at that. “Maybe.”

I narrow my eyes are her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” she says, eyes shifting towards Hope, “I think you’re trying to downplay everything. I think being so close to him might drive you crazy.”

I sigh yet again and drop my spoon into the sundae, abandoning it. I hate that Grace is probably right. But downplaying it is the only way I can survive it. The only way to keep on living.

“I can’t pass up this chance. I just can’t. Five years of nothing, and finally some kind of success is within reach. I have to do this, even if it means breaking my heart again every time I see him. In the end, it will be worth it.”

“Oh, honey,” Grace says, scooting close to me and giving my arm a squeeze. “Forget I said anything, okay? You have every right to take this job. And if he doesn’t like it, if he’s mean to you, tell me and I’ll kick his butt.”

I laugh at that. I could picture Grace trying to do just that. “You really mean it? You’d kick an MMA fighter’s butt for me?”

Grace winks and gives my arm another squeeze. “Only because you’re so pretty.”

“You are pretty, Aunt Mandy,” Hope suddenly pipes in.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I smile at Hope. “I think you’re pretty too.” She is such a wonderful little person. Sometimes I feel a pang when I’m around her. Moments like this make me almost want my own little person.

“When I grow up, I want to be a ring girl like you.” Hope looks between us, clearly expecting approval for what she just said.

Grace and I are so shocked at first that we just stare at each other with wide eyes before bursting into another fit of laughter.

Hope beams, taking our laughter as approval. “And I’m going to buy hot fudge sundaes with extra sprinkles for all my friends.”

* * *

Today is officially my first day as a ring girl. It’s not a hard job when I break it down inside my head. I just have to look good in the bikini, smile at the crowd and strut my hips between bouts. Easy, right? But I’m still nervous as fuck.

Knowing my luck, I’ll probably fall on my face or something. There’s always the chance I could break a heel or worse, hold up a card with the wrong number on it. And even if nothing goes wrong, if everything goes as planned, I still have to walk around the cage in front of a sold-out arena. Hundreds of eyes will be staring at me, judging me, and the whole thing will also be broadcast live on national television. There is absolutely no room for mistakes. If I fuck up, I’ll be the laughingstock of Trenton.

I take a deep breath before I step into the woman’s dressing room and know Grace would tell me to suck it up, bitch, you got this.

The back of the arena is barely controlled chaos with fighters, trainers, and officials milling about or disappearing into the rooms. You can hear some of the guys getting themselves pumped up, talking shit about their opponents to whoever will listen. Some of them even roar and pound things.

And the smells, my god, the smells. Being back here kind of reminds me of a zoo.

Walking into the women’s dressing room is almost like stepping into another world. I hear laughter, the light lilting voices of other women, and it smells more like flowers and candy than sweaty jock straps and stinky gym shoes.

“Mandy?” a girl calls out to me as I walk around a corner to see a vanity taking up the entire back wall of the room.

The upper half of the wall is all mirror and bright white spotlights while the lower half is a counter covered in a plethora of cosmetics and perfumes. Sitting in front of the vanity are four other very pretty girls who swivel in their chairs to look at me.

“Hi,” I smile nervously and wave. I hope this isn’t like high school where I’ll have to act cool to get the popular clique to like me.

“Hey, girl,” the brunette on the right says. She pats the empty chair next to her. “Pull up a chair, we’ve been waiting on you.”

I smile gratefully and shuffle over to my chair. “I’m Mandy,” I say politely and giggle. “But I guess you girls already know that.”

“I’m Sarah,” the brunette waves.

“Jill,” the blonde next to her smiles.