Page 41 of Unleash Hades
“I meant your journalist.” Rose smirked. “Did you do any talking or did you just…”
Rose made a lewd gesture, sticking her index finger into the balled fist of her other hand, and made a disgusting, moist sound by clicking her tongue.
“You’re vile.” I grimaced. “But no, we didn’t talk.”
I didn’t find out why she was here. I had no control when it came to her. But I was practically high on her taste, and I couldn’t be held responsible for letting the world slip by.
I couldn’t help my smile as I recounted the feel of her in my hands. She was real, and she was here.
Rose let out a small sigh. I almost didn’t hear it. I turned my head, as if she had shouted my name. Her eyes were at the empty octagon, and the slowly dispersing crowd.
I watched her eyes fall to the floor, and a shadow crossed her features.
“Do you miss fighting?” I ventured.
“No! Of course not! I’m very happy with my life now,” she said, shaking her head. But she was protesting too much… Then she shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
She adjusted the straps of her bra - something that I watched her do often ever since her breasts became engorged with feeding her little monsters. She had been flat chested before. Now shewas big breasted, but her skin was fat-less and paper thin. It made her body look… fake.
She coughed, as if dismissing whatever errant thought she’d had and sighed.
“And no luck with the She-Bear, huh?” She was changing the topic before I could pry into her issues. I didn’t mind. She’d tell me all about it when she was ready.
“She didn't think a drink could happen, but who knows…” I shrugged.
The locker room door slammed open. A man in a suit flew out like he had been donkey-kicked in the chest. He slid along the ground, his feet kicked up like an upside-down turtle.
He pushed off the ground with one arm, and frowned, storming back into the locker room, only to be thrown out again. This time, he fell through the door face first, smacking his nose on the ground.
Rose and I looked at each other, then shrugged.
“I like her.” I crossed my arms, looking at the violence that was obviously the work of the She-Bear.
“What did you do?” Rose asked, talking to the man as he stumbled onto his feet.
“Fuck you,” the man said, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his arm. Another man ran out - one of the four black-suited minions that were there to guard their prize fighter.
“Rude.” I shrugged, exchanging a grin with Rose.
“Calm down,stronzo!” The man grabbed his assaulted buddy by the collar. “The young Morelli will skin you alive if she’s harmed, so knock it off.”
He shook his friend, until the two of them glared, breathing through flared nostrils as they worked through their emotions like children learning how to control their temper.
“Italian Mafia,” I remarked under my breath to Rose.
She gave a slight nod, amused by what was happening.
“I want to be her friend,” I chuckled.
Fighting men were often the biggest adolescents. Mafiosos and criminals weren’t the geniuses or professionals the movies and books made them out to be. Some were just loud-mouthed little shits trying to throw around their inadequate weight.
Having the guts to throw one on their arse? That was splendid.
It was a thing I had learned early in life. Surround yourself with strong women, because men will either rise up to meet them, or sink lower to try to break them.
The She-Bear finally exited the lockers; she was calm, stone-faced, and tall.
It was rare to see a woman who stood eye-to-eye with me. Her t-shirt was tight, and so were her jeans. She had a leather jacket that was frayed on the edges. The girl in the tan dress stood closebehind, as if she was a child hiding behind her mother. The two other men gave them a wide berth.
