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“Did you take a lot of dance classes when you were getting started, or did you mostly get on-the-job training? Because, you know, I am thinking about going into . . . pole work.”
“Sweetie, unless you want me to break that pretty face of yours, you’d better let me through,” she said, glaring down at me. “But with a little work up top, I think you could make a lot of money.”
“Thanks—hey!” I said, looking down at my little teacup breasts.
Which gave Trixie the opportunity to shove me aside and make for the bathroom door.
I looked across the bar to Caleb, who had finally noticed Trixie. He was trying to push through the crowd, but they were getting rowdy, seeing Trixie and assuming that it was almost time for their show. Trixie was barricaded in by the bodies, and this would be the perfect opportunity to whack her from behind with a pool cue . . . if I was capable of such cowardice. And then she turned on me, and I was pretty sure, given the expression on my face and the cue in my hand, that she knew what I was thinking.
She growled and made a grab at my hair. I ducked out of the way, bobbling my cue as I sidestepped her. She rounded, and I raised my fists, but honestly, I was afraid to take a swing at her. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to play this. From what I’d seen of “bikini boxing” on those tacky testosterone channels on cable, it was more about bouncing around and putting on a show than actually trading blows. Why didn’t I switch the TV to one of those more respectable female MMA fights? Why?
Sensing my hesitation, she drew back her arm and plowed her fist right into my face. It hurt, but what disappointed me was the way the punch had me bouncing my ass against the scarred wooden floor. That was demoralizing.
Trixie sneered and turned her back on me to run for the front door. I sprang up from the floor and jumped onto her back to slow her down, but man, she was fast on those big plastic heels.
“Get off of me!” she shouted as I dragged her backward.
“No!” I said. “Give us the ring.” OK, now I definitely felt like Gollum. And if she kept batting at my face with those acrylic nails, I was going to look like him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she cried, tossing me off of her. My grip on her shirt popped the Velcro closures, splitting it open for all to see as I smacked against the nearby pool table. Instead of taking the time to appreciate how much that hurt, I launched myself at her. I’d hoped the element of surprise would help me knock her back off her feet, but she caught me and damn near threw me over her shoulder.
She swung at the closest thing to her hands: my head. Since she took no precautions against marking my face, I showed her the same lack of courtesy. And I ended up getting tossed to the floor for my efforts. I could see Caleb’s anxious face bobbing over the shoulders of those standing closest to us. He couldn’t break through the crowd without displaying some serious werewolf strength.
Note to self: Leave the fighting to Caleb. He’s much better at it.
I jumped to my feet, delivering an uppercut to her chin. The crowd cheered when I followed through with the elbow so that it caught her cheek as her face whipped forward. She bent forward, clutching her face. I brought her head crashing down on my knee and kicked out at her legs, knocking her off her stripper heels. She used her position to sweep my legs out from under me.
From there, there wasn’t much strategy, just the two of us swinging away at whatever we could reach. I think I may have punched her in her spangled red bikini top. By that point, I wasn’t able to see so well out of my swollen right eye, so hitting her in the boob was a distinct possibility.
“Come on, ladies, break it up,” Caleb said, peeling me off of her and setting me on my feet.
“Crazy little bitch!” Trixie spat.
“Look, all we want is the wedding ring,” I told her as Caleb carted me outside of swinging distance. “We just need the ring, and we’ll get out of your face.”
Trixie nodded slowly, considering. Caleb put me on my feet, and I approached her.
I patted her arm. In a gentler voice, I told her, “If you want, I will personally deliver pictures of you straddling one of those beefy fellas to Lolo, so he knows what he’s missing.”
Trixie nodded again, but this time, she was swaying on her feet. I didn’t think it was because of my vicious blows.
“OK, OK,” she panted, slipping the ring off her finger. “Just take it. I didn’t want the stupid r-ring . . . any-anyway.”
As she dropped it into my waiting palm, a red flush crept across her skin, and her breathing went unsteady and shallow.
I shoved the ring into my pocket. “Hey, are you OK?”
Trixie shook her head, just before her eyes rolled up and she collapsed to the floor. Her head bounced off the planks with a sickening crack.
“Trixie?”
“Come on, get up,” Pam called. “She beat you fair and square, Trix. Have some dignity.”
I knelt over Trixie, prying her eyelids apart, watching through my good eye to see if her pupils responded to the harsh lights of the bar.
“No, I think she’s really sick,” I told the bartender as I watched Trixie’s lips swell. If this reaction was what I suspected, her airway could swell shut in minutes, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. And contrary to every medical TV show ever made, it’s not that easy to improvise intubation with an empty ballpoint pen.>“That’s still a possibility,” I told him, making Abe frown at Caleb.
“She’s a kidder,” Caleb assured him. “She’s crazy about me.”
