Lost Girls(65)

This hall was bigger than anywhere we’d fought before.

And it wasn’t filled with a crowd of cheering kids.

This place was crammed—wall to wall with barely enough room for a center aisle to walk down toward the stage—with screaming, jumping, cheering adults. Most of them were men who looked like the guys standing outside, muscles pumped, skin tattooed, faces stubbled and unshaven. They were all ages and races, from early twenties to late sixties, black hair to white, all with fists raised—the same way we acted when we watched our own fights. But there was a chilling difference between this group of spectators and us. They leered and jeered and called out obscenities to the girls onstage. They licked their lips and they leaned forward, fingers digging eagerly into pockets for more cash as they shouted their bids.

It felt like I was at a slave auction.

Was that what went on in the Platinum Level? We were up for sale? A shudder ran through me, one that shook me all the way to my bones. If I was right, who was buying fighters and what were they planning to do with us?

I looked at Lauren, wondering if she understood what was happening. Fear glistened in her eyes, but she looked like she was fighting against it. She pulled her shoulders back and walked with a swagger. The indecisive girl in the parking lot vanished. If she kept this act up, she was going to get top dollar.

But I had no idea whether that was good or bad.

We were pushed through the second door where a small entourage of girls our age waited, all with doe-like eyes and heads that bowed when we walked in.

“Get these two ready for the next fight,” the guy behind us growled.

“Of course!” One of them—an amber-haired girl with olive skin—hurried forward, her features both exotic and slightly familiar. She led us to a couple of chairs and gestured for us to sit down. Then she pulled out a makeup kit and started setting up her brushes and pots of color. “How do you want them? Innocent? Sophisticated? Trampy?”

I flinched when she said that last word and I shot a glance at Lauren. She swallowed but kept her head up as the girl started applying base foundation on Lauren’s ivory skin.

“Innocent, like babes in the wood,” he said, then he flicked a finger toward me. “But make sure this one draws everyone’s attention. She’s the leader of her group. And a real troublemaker.”

I wished I could remember what I’d done the last time I was here. Clearly I’d been difficult. I gave him a haughty look, pretending this was what happened before every fight. “No men in the changing room. We won’t be able to act innocent onstage if some meathead watches us change clothes.”

The makeup girl let out a small gasp, but the rest of the room remained still. The guard took two quick steps until he stood in front of me, then he grasped my chin in one hand. “I could break your neck with a single snap,” he whispered, leaning so close his rough cheek scratched against mine.

“You think you could. There’s a reason why I’m the leader of my group and why I’ve never been defeated.”

Time stopped and I held my breath, hoping he didn’t notice my trembling lips.

He grinned, the expression in his eyes turning my stomach. “This one’s got fire, I’ll give her that much.” Then he spoke to the girls who had already been in the room when we arrived. “Make sure they both wear matching costumes and that they are sleeveless. These girls have black-light tattoos that could bring a pretty penny tonight.”

“How could our tattoos affect the betting?” Lauren asked. She still didn’t understand what was going on here. “Lots of fighters have tattoos. The Skulls, the Ravens, the Dragon Tattoo Girls—”

He ran one hand over her hair, almost like he was petting her. “Wish I could take this one home for myself. Just for one night.”

She froze, a frightened expression in her eyes.

“Remember to braid her hair and pin it up,” he said. “Don’t want it to get pulled out during the fight. Can’t have damaged merchandise.”

“I’m not merchandise,” she said, pulling away from him.

He laughed. “Of course you’re not. No need to get your little panties twisted up.” He turned to look at the other girls, giving them instructions. “The first fight should be over in a few minutes. Make sure these two are ready when the announcer calls for them.” Then the guy turned and left the room. It felt like he took all the oxygen with him. No one moved or said anything for half a minute.

Finally Lauren spoke up. “Rachel, what the hell’s going on? I think we should leave. This place is giving me the creeps.” She stood and pushed the makeup girl away from her. “Stop messing with my face!”

“Find them costumes, quick!” the makeup girl said while she kept trying to dust powder across Lauren’s brow. All three of the other girls fumbled through a rack of clothing that I hadn’t even noticed until now. I ran a quick gaze over the costumes, some flamboyant, some almost puritanical, some that were obviously made for boys. “You can’t leave. Not yet,” she said to Lauren. “They have too much money invested in your event. No fighter would walk away now.” She paused, her brush in midair. “No good fighter, anyway.”

“Rachel?” Lauren stared at me, her skin pale beneath her makeup.

“You’re right, we should go.” Then I turned to the makeup girl, noting once again that she looked like someone I’d seen somewhere before. “What’s going on out there?”