Part 39 (1/2)
”It's not for everyone.”
Feeling on an island, I look behind me. Rose and Jason urge me on with their looks. Behind them are Chance and Ca.s.sie. I guess we're all going to the club together.
Rose winks at me.
”I noticed you tonight,” Pierce says, and I snap my head back around and look up at him.
”I could tell,” I say. ”The pointing wasn't exactly subtle.”
”It's part of the personality.”
I shrug. Somehow, I don't believe he compartmentalizes his fighting from his everyday life that much.
Our shoulders touch, and I feel this current of electricity shoot through me, right into my belly.
”You're not comfortable.”
I blanch. ”Sorry?”
”You're not comfortable, are you?”
”Um, no, I guess?”
”First time to a fight, and going by the way you're dressed, I'd say your friend didn't tell you what the atmosphere was going to be like.”
My cheeks burn. ”You know, I'm not really feeling this. I'm going to go home.”
”Don't,” he says. ”I want you to join me.”
”Don't I get a say in this?”
He stops, turns and looks at me. ”You can leave any time you like.”
Again, I'm put on the spot. I hear Rose hiss my name, only this time she's getting impatient.
”I get the feeling you do this after every fight, right?” I ask.
”Go celebrating?”
”Yeah.”
”You're right. I do always win.” He grins.
”I meant pick out some girl you think you're going to get with.”
”Think?”
”Wow,” I say. ”And just before you said it was all an act.”
”That's not what I said.” He turns around and says to Jason, ”Alright, see you guys there. Wait for me at the front door, or they won't let you in.”
I do a double take, and then look behind me, but Rose and Jason are already crossing the street.
”Hey!” I yell. ”Where are you going?”
”To the car.”
They keep going, and I turn back to Pierce, and he's just regarding me. I feel like I'm on display or something. Being tested.
Is this some kind of setup?
”I won't bite,” he says.
”Where are we going?”
”To my car.”
”Oh.”
We round a corner, and there I see a black sports car. It's a Porsche.
”That's your car?”
”Yup. 911 GT3.”
”I didn't realize fighting paid so well.”
”It pays well a I won twenty-five grand tonight a but not this well.”
”So where do you get your money?”
”I bet on myself in the fights. Usually it doesn't amount to much, but sometimes I'm the underdog.”
”Is that legal?”
His expression says: Are you serious? He opens the pa.s.senger side door for me. ”It's low,” he says.
”So?”
”Never mind,” he says casually. ”Usually they're wearing heels.”
”Um,” I say, climbing into the car. What the h.e.l.l was that?
He's right, the car is low. ”Why did you say that?” I ask as he climbs into the car.
But he doesn't reply. He buckles up, starts the car, and I grip instinctively onto my seat as I feel the thunderous vibration rattle in my b.u.m.
He pulls out of the parking s.p.a.ce, and the car accelerates so fast I can barely breathe, and even though the windows are closed, it's so loud I can hardly hear anything but the roar of the engine.