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A security guard opens it, welcoming us into a world of loud roaring and applause. It’s an indoor arena, with metal bleachers wrapped around something I can’t quite make out.
Harlow squeezes my hand and tugs me through the crowd, stopping in front of a massive wire cage.
Inside, a salt-and-pepper-haired man mops blood off the white canvas while a badly battered blond tends to his wounds.
“Okay, really.” I shake my head. “Where the hell are we, Harlow?”
“We’re at a fight club.” She beams. “This is the best place to meet hot guys and all the future stars of the MMA world.”
“MMA?”
“Mixed martial arts.” She looks at me as if I should already know this. “It’s wrestling, boxing, karate, Jiu-Jitsu, and, like,everythingmixed in one. Anything goes.”
“Um…” I cough as a guy walks past us puffing weed. “Is this place legal?”
“Of course not.”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” A man dressed in all black steps into the cage, mic in hand. “Prepare for the first co-main event!”
The crowd’s screams are louder than any of the ones I’ve heard in a skating rink.
“Fighting in the red corner: Mad Max Jones!”
A sexy blond in grey shorts suddenly runs toward the cage. He kisses his wrapped fists before waving to the crowd and walking inside.
“His real name is Connor Masters,” Harlow says to me. “I wassoclose to fucking him last summer. I had to settle for giving him a blowjob.”
I did not need to know that.
“Fighting in the blue corner, well, he’s still refusing to name himself, but since he’s from Seattle, we’ve been calling himThe Humble Kid from the Emerald City!”
The decibel level rises so high that it hurts my ears. The bleachers shake as the entire crowd jumps up and down.
Uninterested in joining this cult, I immediately open the Uber app, but the sight of Travis entering the ring in dark red shorts stops me dead in my tracks.
I swallow as the arena’s harsh lighting accentuates every inch of his perfectly sculpted body. His abs glisten and he not-so-subtly flexes the muscles in his back.
An intricate trail of ink-black tattoos mars his shoulders, dripping their marks on both his arms before stamping an emblem on the left side of his chest.
“I want him to fuck me!” Harlow screams.
“Me too!” The girl in front of us turns around and gives Harlow a high five.
Travis takes to his corner, and I can’t force myself to look away.
“Alright, you both know the rules,” the announcer says. “Three two-minute rounds, anything goes unless there’s a TKO. Prize is five thousand even. Approach the referee and touch gloves if you want to.”
Travis and the blond oblige, sending the crowd into another lust-filled frenzy. The announcer slips away, and a loud bell rings above the cage.
Without hesitation, Travis approaches the blond and punches him square in the face. As if he’s possessed, his eyes darken and he throws two jabs against the blond’s cheek.
His opponent throws a punch in return, but it doesn’t land.
Taking advantage, Travis lifts his leg and kicks the left side of the blond’s head, sending him to the ground.
For some strange reason, the referee doesn’t intervene.
Travis bends over and attacks the grounded guy viciously, feeding him blow after blow, drawing blood and applause from the crowd all at once. He throws four more blood-soaked punches before the referee finally pushes him away.
