Page 9 of Dare to Dance
He dragged two fingers down his day-old stubble. “You have a name?”
“People usually do.” I rolled my eyes. “Now, get out of my way.”
He chuckled. “Tough girl.”
I wasn’t always a tough, sarcastic girl. Actually, I’d been shy in high school. But the streets had molded me into a person I didn’t like, a person I would have never imagined I’d become.
He scanned my body again.
“Look, mister. I sense you’re up to something, but give me a once-over again, I’ll kick you in the balls.”
He bowed his head and slid to one side. “You look hungry. Would you like some food?” His gravelly voice turned sweet.
My stomach growled for the fiftieth time that day. “What’s the catch?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “None.”
There was always a catch, but Norma needed some soup or sustenance, and I did too. Another wave of hoots and hollers singed the air. My gaze tracked down to the active crowd, but I still couldn’t see what all the excitement was about.
The wiry man followed my line of sight. “You’re welcome to go down and check out the festivities.”
“Do you have any soup?” I asked.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Actually, I’d like two plates of food and a bowl of soup to go. But I have no money.” If he asked for sex as payment, I was hightailing out of there as fast as I could. I would find food in some dumpster on my way back to Norma.
He waved a crusty hand down the stairs. “I offered you food, so don’t worry about the money. Head down and enjoy the show. I’ll be right back.”
I sized him up like he’d done to me. He wasn’t a bad-looking man. I would guess him to be in his late twenties. He was dressed casually in jeans, and he had defined arms but wasn’t at all broad in the shoulders. He sort of reminded me of a basketball player.
“One wrong move, and I’ll kill you.” I wasn’t joking. I carried a small pocketknife for many reasons, including protection. I’d never used the knife though.
He grinned. “My name is Tommy, and I’m not a pervert.”
I snorted. He sounded as if he was in one of those AA meetings. Regardless, I would bet he wasn’t an upstanding guy. “Ruby.” Once my real name was out there, I berated myself. I should’ve used an alias. Then again, it was only my first name.
“Well, Ruby, enjoy yourself. I’ll be right back.” He left through the same door I’d walked through.
I traipsed down to the melee, my curiosity pushing me forward. I plowed through fat men, skinny men, short men, and tall men, inhaling cigar smoke, cigarette smoke, body odor, and other disgusting scents.
They parted, some reluctantly, others easily. When I had a clear view of the object of their focus, my mouth dropped open. A beefy woman was beating the lights out of a girl half her size.
“Why isn’t she fighting?” I asked a cigarette-smoking man on my right.
He blew out smoke. “She’s afraid. It’s her first time.”
I waved at the brawl. “I don’t get it. Why is she even fighting if she’s afraid?”
The meek girl had blue streaks through her blond hair. She cowered in a corner of the makeshift boxing ring that had been formed using four metal poles and yellow police tape.
“The money,” he said. “The winner gets three hundred dollars.”
That’s all?The two men I’d overheard had mentioned fifteen thousand, which meant that these two women were getting screwed, although three hundred was quite a bit of cash for someone in my predicament. “The fight is fixed, isn’t it?” It had to be. Who would win between Hefty Girl against Meek Girl was a no-brainer in my book.
“Sometimes,” Smoker Dude said, “it’s not a slam dunk. Some shy girls have so much adrenaline and anger, they can beat the shit out of the larger opponents.”
I suspected I could beat the lights out of someone if my life depended on it. “But someone should end this one.”
