Page 12 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

“You thought I’d change my mind?” Deepa asked lightly, as if such a thing were impossible.

“I hoped you wouldn’t.” Letting go of one of Deepa’s hands, Roz tipped her thumb back over her shoulder towards the ring. “We’ll be starting in a minute. Wish me luck?”

“I don’t think you need it,” Deepa said, but all the same, she leaned in, fingertips light on Roz’s shoulders and her other hand even lighter against Roz’s chest to press a quick kiss to her cheek. When she pulled back, Roz was grinning like she couldn't help herself.

“Do I get another one of those after the match?”

“Only if you win.”

“Cheeky.”

“Good luck,” Deepa told her beatifically, and gave her a little push towards the other women. “Go fight. I’ll be watching.”

“You’re an awful tease,” Aaliyah commented as Roz stalked back to the ring, arms behind her head as she stretched to warm up. “Keep this up, and she’ll be wrapped around your finger like a love knot.”

“It’s only flirting,” Deepa protested with a laugh.

“Your flirting should be classified as a deadly weapon. A woman like that doesn’t stand a chance.”

“A woman like what, exactly?”

“The kind that wants to bend over backwards to please a pretty face.”

“And what kind of woman am I?” Deepa asked. Though her tone was light, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Aaliyah glanced at her. “You’re the pretty face, obviously. You’re a professional temptress.”

“Playing hard to get,” Jasmine added.

“And well out of her league. The question is,” Aaliyah said, nudging her, “do you want to stay the course when it comes to Roz? Or do you want to try something different?”

“I think,” Deepa said carefully, feeling her way along one word at a time, “that I want to treat her differently than I treat my men.”

Aaliyah elbowed her, knocking her completely off balance just as the activity by the ring turned organised and intent. The group of onlookers crowded close, finalising their bets and passing money around, engulfing the three girls as the anticipation in the air hummed like electricity.

“Do you mean you actually want to try something with her?” Aaliyah demanded, all delight. “Do you think she could actually be the love you need to break your curse?”

“I promised her a kiss if she wins. That’s all I’ve said so far.”

“That's all you'vesaid. But what are you thinking about?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s too soon to say.”

“It’s been six days,” Jasmine pointed out.

“Six days apart,” Deepa countered.

“And whose fault is that?” Aaliyah asked.

“Be quiet,” Deepa said peaceably. “The fight is starting.”

That wasn’t entirely accurate. Rather, the fight was about to start. The two boxers took to opposite corners of the ring, stretching their arms and dancing lightly as they limbered up. Roz’s opponent was a taller woman with a blonde bob held back with a kerchief, less stocky than Roz, with a greater reach. They were both in sleeveless tops and shorts cut above the knee, with soft boots covering the ankle, and thick, padded gloves strapped on their hands. They wore no other protection, and for the first time, Deepa realised just how likely the fight was to hurt.

Roz had told her that none of them had ever been seriously injured, rarely even bloodied, but she hadn’t said anything about the likelihood of bruising. As tough as the women looked, they were both pale enough that any bruises would show up as easily as on a couple of ripe peaches, and Deepa wasn’t sure she wanted to see that.

A girl in a white blouse stepped up, slenderer and younger than either of the two fighters, with a chunky silver whistle in her mouth. She said something to the serious-looking woman at the side of the ring, who nodded in response and stepped away.

“It's too late to place any formal bets, but do you want to make a wager just between the three of us?” Aaliyah asked.

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