Lost Girls(53)
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“What an epic adventure!”
“Every night should be like this!”
The four of us girls headed across the broad parking lot that surrounded the warehouse, spotlights searching the skies, while Dylan and Brett and the other Ravens stopped a few steps behind us to discuss something. When I glanced back, I noticed they were all staring at a cluster of gleaming cars lined up on the road, almost like a private valet service. A group of seedy men had descended upon the cars, discreetly thumbing out thick wads of cash, then snatching up keys and climbing behind the wheels of Mercedes and BMWs. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was another side business going on here that involved stolen cars.
I froze in place, trying to remember something that kept slipping away, something that tightened my throat.
Dylan met my gaze and seemed to understand what I was thinking. He elbowed Brett and then all the boys jogged to catch up with us.
Meanwhile, the rave still thumped and glittered, thousands of people dancing at an unending party, the perfect cover-up for the Phase Two event that had just taken place inside a well-guarded room. Even after Dylan was right behind us again, I continued to nervously finger the diamond-studded swan that nestled in the hollow of my throat, wondering how dangerous it was to be walking through this neighborhood.
“Gold Level is so much better than silver!” Zoe said, enthusiasm in her voice.
“What do you mean? I still don’t understand what Gold Level is,” I said.
She came alongside me, looped her arm through mine, leaning her head on my shoulder for a moment, her lavender hair looking like the color of blood under night skies. She was more petite than I was, weighing only a hundred and ten pounds and standing five foot one. The weight classes were becoming more familiar to me now and she definitely fit in with the strawweights.
“We all started at Silver Level, fighting as individuals. Then, once we got accepted into teams, we each got a patron, and we moved on to gold. Now we have each other—all of us Swan Girls—to back each other up. It’s safer and more fun,” she said.
“You got that right,” Stephanie chimed in.
“But there are rumors of another level,” Lauren said in a low, dramatic tone. “Some people say it’s platinum, others say it’s titanium. And you need a special invitation to get inside—”
“Those are just rumors,” Dylan said. “Gold is as high as it goes. Everybody just wants a greater thrill and a bigger high, that’s all, so they make up stories. But Gold is the place to be. Especially when you’re with the right team.” He and Brett gave each other loud high fives and the Raven team said things like, right on, and amen, and what he said.
But I wondered. A needle pricked me in the gut, making me uncomfortable, as if I’d just learned a dangerous secret. Something about those cars changing hands behind us and what Lauren had said chipped away at the high I’d been feeling ever since my fight. My feet connected with the ground with solid slaps, no more toe-heel bouncy steps, and the pit of my stomach felt hollow.
There were illegal things going on here, more than just dancing and drugs. And there might be another level above Phase Two, another venue where the promoters of this event lured fighters away from their teams and their friends, where they’d meet in secret.
If that was true, it sounded deadly.
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The crowds thinned as people drifted away from the rave and toward their cars. The sleazy nature of the neighborhood became more evident than it had been when we first drove through. Vagrants and homeless guys staggered about, weaving down cracked sidewalks, clothes rumpled and stained, some wheeling shopping carts, some struggling to carry all their earthly possessions in their arms. I winced as we approached Lauren’s Mini-Cooper and saw one of the homeless wretches leaning against it. The stench of urine and liquor wafted from him, and he lifted his head from his chest to gaze at us with world-weary eyes.
“Ewww,” Lauren said. She stopped and refused to walk any closer.
The other girls stayed at her side. Dylan was still behind us, so I wasn’t afraid. That is, until the homeless guy started ambling away from the car, shuffling toward us. The closer he got, the more I noticed the ropes of muscles that bulged beneath his clothes and the way a dark intelligence flickered in his eyes when he glanced up at me. It looked like he was going to pass us, his eyelids thudding closed as if he was barely awake, like he was going to swerve around us toward a nearby alley and then pass out.
But just when he was a few steps away from me he lost his balance and had to shuffle to the side quickly to keep from falling.
His shoulder brushed against mine, pushing me a step backward.
“Careful there, mister,” Dylan called out a warning.
“Sorry,” he mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear. Then his head dipped closer and I thought I recognized him, that unusual accent, those piercing eyes. When he spoke again, it was just a rough whisper that only I could hear.
“Make sure you keep this with you in the future.”
His hand touched mine, just a brushing of flesh against flesh, and then he clumsily regained his balance. He coughed, spit on the ground, causing the other girls to turn away, saying things like gross and yuck.
A second later he was gone, a shadow blending in with midnight, slipping into the hidden recesses of the alley. The thunk of metal as his foot kicked a can and then nothing.