Page 106 of Falcon

“God, I hope so.”

“I’ll see you after my win.” Ah, the arrogance. I love it.

“I’ll be the one in blue.”

We kill the call then shove my phone, ID, and some cash into my back pocket before heading down to the lobby.

***

He was right. I absolutely didn’t miss Vincent.

How could you with his bright pink hair and tattoos sleeving both arms and his neck? To a passerby, they may be intimidated by him, but our drive across town told me that he is nothing but a teddy bear who is obsessed with his wife and daughter. He likes a good red wine and watches Real Housewives of New Jersey with his wife every single week.

I adore him already.

When we arrive at the venue, I’m driven around to a back entrance where I meet Frank, a very muscular, good-looking African American man, and he leads me into the back hallways of the arena.

I slide my badge around my neck and try my best to keep up with his long strides.

There must be music playing in the main arena, because I can make out the bass line vibrating my chest and the floor beneath my feet.

The hallways are empty, at first, but the closer we get to the music, the more crowded they become.

Assistants, press, camera crews, people I can only assume are guests of some of the other fighters, and honestly, it’s immediately obvious which of them are “belt riders” as Falcon calls them.

They are wearing dresses so short I’m unsure how there isn’t an endless number of vaginas just hanging out for the world to see, heels so high, they will surely break an ankle, and makeup so caked on that their pores must be screaming.

We wind our way through the throngs of people, passing by merch stands, concession stands, and the like.

“Would you like to stop for something to drink before I take you down to your seat?” Frank asks. “We’ve got water, soda, beer, but if you need something a little harder, I’m sure we can find that too.”

“I’m okay actually. Thank you though.” I slide my nervous, clammy palms against my shorts.

“If you change your mind, just tell the security in your section to buzz Frank and I’ll be right over to get it for you. The Boss doesn’t want you to have to fight all the crowds if you don’t have to.”

I look down at my feet and smile. He’s taking care of me without even being around.

Frank leads me around one last hallway and we step onto the arena floor, and I’m instantly overwhelmed.

“Holy shit,” I say, and Frank just laughs.

There are easily twenty thousand people here, all waiting and eager in their stadium seating.

Flashes from cameras, both cell phone and large professional ones, give a strobe light effect to the arena. The energy in here is vibrating, and shockingly, it doesn’t make me more anxious. It kind of excites me.

Frank leads me to my seat, but not before introducing me to the security guard who is standing on the arena floor just a few feet from my section.

And just like that, I’m left to my own devices.

I pull out my cell phone and snap a couple photos to send to Rose; then I fire off a text to Falcon, letting him know I’m safe and sound in my seat.

I hear the chatter as a group of people descend the stairs toward my section and start filing in to the row behind me, and one specifically makes my eyes roll into the back of my head.

Great.

“Color me surprised.”

I don’t even have to turn around to know who the voice belongs to, but I do anyway. I will not be a catty female. I just won’t do it.

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