Torn - Part 1: The Torn Series (5 page)

“Nope.” He didn’t elaborate. “So?”

I shook my head but I said, “Okay.”

My head was swimming as I hopped up onstage and helped finish setting up. This big city move was supposed to be fun, and exciting, and not this confusing. The whole idea was to have a fresh start with Tyler - to build a new life with him. Now that he’d backed out of that dream, I was lost.

Mallet shot an encouraging grin my way from the foot of the stage where he took up residence. He crossed his arms and scanned the crowd for trouble. I doubted there’d be much, but still, his presence was a comfort.

Jen screamed into the microphone, “Are all you bitches ready to party?” making me jump in place. I was ready, all right. My bass was ready. Adrenaline flowed through my veins as people gathered close to the stage and we struck up our first few chords.
I love this.

Our setlist didn’t vary much from our show the previous weekend, but this was a completely different crowd - they were much more into it. The bad taste left in my mouth by that groper’s attack quickly faded. I danced back and forth across the stage, interacted with the crowd, sang along with Jen.

They loved it. I knew we weren’t a big deal, we weren’t well known and we didn’t have fans, but we put our hearts into our show and the crowd danced and sang along, and what more could a brand new punk girl like me ask for? I screamed the lyrics and they screamed back.

And all the while, Mallet hovered below us. He quietly slipped from one end of the stage to the other, giving a wary eye to anyone who danced too rowdy and too close. And they calmed when caught in his gaze. He was intimidating when he was quiet like that - arms crossed, face stony. The girls were smart to hire him.

I was sweating when we were finished; the tops of my breasts glistened with perspiration and my hair stayed put when I slicked back the wet strands. My feet hurt in the platform boots, I’d broken a nail and even the callouses on my fingers were sore from playing so hard. I was a hot mess.

And I felt amazing.

I was high on excitement and on the audience’s appreciation. The girls were, too - I could see it in their bright eyes and their brighter grins. We cleared our gear off the stage quickly and helped the next band move their equipment.

I even worked up the nerve to approach Mallet and, before I could think about it and wimp out, I asked, “Where to?” I wanted to go. I wanted to be fun and spontaneous and different from the girl I was used to being.

I wanted to move on from Tyler. At least temporarily.

And dammit, I’m going to kiss Mallet again. Just watch me. I’ll do it first.

CHAPTER 4

It was all well and good to tell myself I’d be bolder and braver. Acting it out was a different matter.

This fight was on the upper west side. I shared one drink with the girls before they hustled me out the door, excited for my “almost kinda sorta date!” as they dubbed it. Both demanded that I text them updates, and Jen made me promise to text her when I got home, to let her know I was safe. It was sweet.

The train was crowded this time. We stood elbow to elbow while holding onto the pole in the middle of the aisle.

“I still can’t believe how many people there are sometimes,” I said, glancing around us. They were people from all walks of life, too - all races, all classes, all ages. It was so different from my college campus out in Pennsylvania, and from the suburb where I grew up. It wasn’t that neither places were diverse at all - they just weren’t quite
this
diverse. If I strained my ears I could hear three different languages being spoken inside our car alone.

It was interesting and it was awesome but it was a little scary for a boring girl like me.
But I’m not boring anymore,
I reminded myself. Not in that outfit, not with that hair.
I’m almost a weirdo.

“You’ll get used to it,” Mallet said.

“You grew up here?”

“Yeah. Been in Queens my whole life.” His hand rested on my lower back as the train swerved. “Want to get drinks with us after the fight?”

Us?
“Sure!” I squeaked. I’d sort of assumed we’d hang out alone, just the two of us, but making new friends was an exciting prospect as well.

I was shocked when we stepped inside a pretty posh-looking building instead of a gym, and even more surprised when we stepped inside the elevator and went up instead of down.

“Lee likes to change it up sometimes,” Mallet explained, “The owner of the gym where we train. He holds the matches in different locations to attract different crowds.”

“What kind of crowd will this be?” I asked.

He shrugged. “More businessmen than usual. A few college dudes with their parents’ money. Good betting.”

“Do you guys bet on each other?”

He shook his head. “It’s more about exposure for us. Trying to get noticed.” He grinned. “You’re in the music biz. You know. It can’t be about the money in the beginning at least.”

“Oh.” It was true. The vague goal of “making it big” involved getting rich and taking lots of limos, but I knew the path there was paved with Ramen noodles and worries about making rent.

He slung an arm over my shoulder as we stepped outside onto the well-lit rooftop. The gesture was strangely possessive but I leaned into him anyway. I hated to admit that I was a little nervous to be there, a little concerned about the legality of all of it. A small crowd had already gathered in a big circle, but there was no ring.

“Hang here for a bit,” he said, stopping us in the middle of the audience. “I’ll be back.” He was gone before I could protest or even ask where he was going.
Probably saying hello to his friends. Buy why leave me here? Does he not want to be seen with me?

I bit my lip as I observed the people around me. I had to remind myself again of how I looked.
I'm not dressed like the nervous, naive girl from the suburbs that I used to be. I'm in a punk band now.
Still, I wrung my hands as I waited for his return.

There was still no sign of him as the first match started. I watched the two men circle each other. One executed an impressive high kick; the other threw a series of blindingly fast punches. I didn't know who I was supposed to root for, so I just cheered for both.

It was easy to get caught up in the excitement. I was never the sort to get squeamish about a little blood. I wasn't a huge fan of violence, but these guys were professionals, sort of, weren't they? Mallet's bruises were no joke, but they weren't serious injuries, either.

I would have asked him if he was there.

The two men grappled for just a moment before one got his arms around the other's neck. It was over after that. They dropped below where I could see - I was still pretty short even with the platform boots - and then I assumed the loser tapped out. I cheered for the winner, whoever it was, and waited for Surly's match.

"First time?" I looked up into a very professional looking face - thick glasses, businessman's haircut. Not what I'd expect to see at this sort of event. I was surprised despite what Mallet had said.

"I saw one match before," I said, then feeling like I ought to explain myself, "I know Surly's sister."

"Ahh," he said, "He's good. He'll need to be a little less cautious if he ever wants to go pro, but he's definitely got the potential."

"Oh." I wondered just how big this fighting scene was. "What about Mallet?"

The man shook his head. "Opposite problem. He's fun to watch but he's going to get himself seriously injured before he can ever get picked up by a promoter."

That wasn't what I wanted to hear.

"It's good that they're working together now," he went on, "If they rub off on each other, who knows. They could both end up being big names."

"That's what all these guys want?"

He shrugged. "Some just like the fight."

The announcer's booming voice ended our conversation.
At least someone was nice enough to explain something
, I grumbled to myself.

Surly was announced next. He was up against some guy called "Whirlwind." The crowd booed at the sound of his name.
At least the guy I'm rooting for is the favorite. If I liked to bet, I'd be feeling pretty good right now.

I wasn't much of a gambler, though.

"It'll be no contest," the man next to me said as the two fighters began to circle each other.

"Why's that?"

"Whirlwind is fast but Surly is like a bull. He'll turn away a few hits and then get the guy right in the gut."

I tried to watch for what he'd said, but the men moved too fast for me to really understand what was happening. I could tell that Surly wasn't throwing many kicks or punches. He sort of appeared to be waiting. Was that what the guy meant?

Neither won the round. They separated at the sound of a whistle and retreated in opposite directions.

"It's not over, right?" I asked.

"Nope. They get three rounds. Won't need 'em, though. Surly will knock him out fast now."

I nodded and pretended I understood. The two fighters were back in view, circling each other once more.

It went just as the stranger had said. They exchange a few blows - a short flurry actually had Surly stagger back a few steps - but then it was over in a flash. Surly's fist connected with his opponent’s gut, then his other fist slammed into the man’s jaw. Whirlwind dropped bonelessly to the ground to the wild shouting of the audience. Surly raised one victorious fist before disappearing from the ring.

I hoped that meant Mallet would return for me soon.

Unless he'd forgotten I was there at all.

Mallet finally found me midway through the third and last match. I was beginning to lose interest and consider skipping out and going home at that point. Though the nice man in the suit was kind enough to explain who would win and why, I was too distracted by my annoyance to pay close attention.

Mallet didn't watch the match with me. He took my hand and pulled me away from the ring and the crowd and back to the exit.

"We're leaving now?" I asked, confused. "What about the rest of the fight? Where's your friends?"

Instead of going straight for the elevators, he dragged me by the hand into the stairwell.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, he asked, "Why were you talking to that guy?"

"What?" The guy had spoken to me first, and that was all. I hadn't done a thing wrong. I hadn't even gotten his name. "Why did you leave me alone?"

He pulled me in close. I was surrounded by his scent and his heat. I suddenly couldn't remember why I was annoyed anymore.

"I had to work with Surly. I don't usually bring guests to these things."

"Then what the hell?" He ran his fingers through my hair and I fought back the urge to close my eyes and lean into the contact. "I didn't know anyone. You left me alone."

He looked down into my eyes as if trying to read something, trying to understand me. "It was just kind of rude," I muttered, "That's all."

"All right," he said, "You're right. I apologize."
Well that was unexpected
. I didn't even know how to reply to that. "I should have just invited you to meet us at the bar afterwards but I didn't think I could wait that long."

My brows furrowed. "Wait for what?"

I should have seen it coming but I squeaked with surprise as his mouth descended upon mine. The sound became a soft moan as his tongue slicked across my lips and as his body pressed into me, curving perfectly with mine, crushing me back against the cool concrete wall.

My arms snaked around the back of his neck as desire flowed through my limbs. I wanted to sink into him; I wanted to lose myself in this, to let him consume me, to whisper his name. To find out his
real
name.

Instead I whined and twisted my face aside.
Someone might find us here
. My nerves got the better of me. As usual.

"Hey now, how did you even know I was single? Last time we spoke I was trying to patch things up with my ex."

"Yeah, well, I didn't see him anywhere and you didn't run home to him after the show." His green eyes were dark, his lips parted. “I rolled the dice.” He looked at me with a hunger that made my knees weak.

"Fair enough."

"Now how about you let me buy you a drink? We'll hang with Surly and the guys for a bit but I promise not to leave your side for the rest of the night."

I smiled. "Well how can I turn that down?"

"You can't," he winked, then kissed me again. It was slow, and gentle, and left me wanting so much more.

His grin was full of heat and promise. "Come on. This bar is walking distance."

That was the best news so far.

○●○●○●○●○

The bar they chose for their post-fight celebration was only moderately busy before we arrived. "Not our favorite spot," Mallet explained, "But they've got an okay beer selection."

I was hardly a connoisseur myself, so I told him to order whatever he was having as long as it wasn't too dark or heavy.