Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(2)

Unless he does know, and he’s just being a dick.

Come to think of it, I’m sure he knows, and he definitely means to be a dick.

Cherry enters through a gap in the crowd like the queen bee. She has on a cherry red robe as if she’s an actual boxer showing up for her title match. A guy in her corner even slips it off her shoulders for her. A skimpy sports bra and shorts round out the ensemble, but I can’t stop staring at the cleavage she’s showing off. Is this a fight or a wet t-shirt contest?

She throws her arms in the air, and the crowd roars. Mostly man sluts hoping she’ll slip a tit. I bet they’re looking over at me thinking that’s the only excitement they’re getting out of tonight.

They’d be wrong.

I stop myself from jumping up and down, the way I get rid of pre-fight jitters. Instead, I toe the ground and do some basic stretching. I’m talking hands over my head, twisting this way and that. Basically, the kind they taught us in Kindergarten, so everyone thinks I look like a dumbass newbie.

Cherry sneers at me. “This is what you get for coming to the Heights, Bitch.”

I’ve had to tone down my snarky ass for days. My tongue is practically salivating to talk back. I can’t wait until this fucking fight is over, so I can verbally eliminate all these fucking wannabe thugs.

“Aww, do you need to run back to Mommy?” Cherry snickers, an exaggerated frown playing over her pouty lips.

My blood boils. This bitch’s mom is probably doped up on crack right now. Or spreading her legs downtown. She probably never had a mommy to console her…

But I did. She’s just fucking dead.

Bitterness makes my body flash hot and cold. My gaze zeroes in on Cherry’s perfect, upturned nose. I stare straight at it, imagining what I’m going to do until Brawler breaks my concentration. He steps into the middle of the ring, looking back and forth between us. His lips move, but a rush of nothing but rage overwhelms me.

This bitch mentioned my mom.

A raging storm kicks up in my brain. A swirling mess of devastating wind and waves roar between my thick skull and ears until he steps back and yells, “Fight!”

My plans have left the building.

I rush her. Her eyes flare with anticipation, but she isn’t that good of a fighter. I’m fast and skilled. I slip under her lame ass attempt at punching me, pop back up, and give a good right hook to her fucking ribs.

The crowd gasps. The moment lingers in the air, suspended. Sure, Cherry’s not their number one fighter. Everyone knows that. I was a gimme to her. Someone she could steamroll through to climb ahead in the rankings. Well, good fucking luck after this, you dirty fucking hoe bag bitch.

I grit my teeth, punching the same spot two more times until she cries out. Her sharp squeal brings me back to reality. I step back. Trying to dampen my initial reaction, my mouth falls open in abject horror. I really do have to stick to the plan. I drop my hands to my waist, making my eyes round.

“You cunt,” she seethes.

She lunges for me, and I let her. She gets in two good punches to the side of my face before I veer around her, bringing my forearms up to block. To my right, Brawler eyes me. Maybe he saw my initial attack for what it was. A deliberate, skilled offense.

Cherry’s fingertips dig into my shoulders before pulling me down, landing a solid knee to my gut. Mouth next to my ear, she says, “You piece of fucking trash. Bitches like you don’t make it in the Heights.”

I look over her arm, scanning the crowd again until I see him. There. Exactly who I needed to make sure was watching as I do this.

Now that I have his attention, I push past her hold, slip under her arm, and lock my arm around her outside forearm. I hold her in place, battering the side of her head with hard-hitting blows. Every time she tries to squirm out of it, I move with her, keeping out of her reach while she’s well within mine.

She’s not so talkative anymore. Now that she’s getting her head beat in.

I trip her and throw her to the ground. She lands on her back and stares up at me, round eyes meeting mine. Her skimpy bra has inched lower, showing the top half of her areola, but she’s not giving a shit about that right now. She runs her hands over her face, wincing when it meets the cut I’ve given her over her eye.

My stare moves up, catching on the most important person in the room. He glares at me with dark eyes, and I shed my oversized shirt, wiping my face with it before throwing it on the ground while he eyes me.

The crowd nearly trips over itself before the comments start flying and the decibels double from the roaring and clapping. They didn’t expect this from me. Not the fight, and not my body. My sports bra and low-slung joggers show off my toned physique, which I’ve kept under wraps from the thugs at school. I needed to play this my way.

I like being the underdog as long as I come out on top, and I will come out on top.

Cherry tries to scramble to her feet. Real fear dancing in her eyes.

I kick her, and she sprawls out again. When I move in, she tries to kick me in the face, but I throw her feet to the side and pounce on her, elbowing her in the forehead. In this moment, I don’t even care that Brawler’s in the room or Cherry or any of the other fuckers I have to go to school with every day. This is about me. This is about my plan. About my vengeance.

Next thing I know, I’m being pulled off her. The tangy, copper taste of blood coats my mouth. I reach up with my fingers to touch my lips and realize it’s not mine. It’s Cherry’s. I spit the shit out and look up to lock gazes with him.