Dirty Love | Bully Romance (18+)

CHAPTER TWO - SUNDAY | SLAUGHTERHOUSE

CHAPTER TWO | SLAUGHTERHOUSE

SUNDAY

FIGHT NIGHTS AT The Cut always produced a ruckus; a drunken cacophony of blood, sweat and sex practically palpable in the air. Tonight was no exception.

I was poised at the red-doored entrance in glittering stilettos, a skintight gold minidress and a faux fur coat that called for murder. Diamonds studded both my ears and neckline as I scanned the rowdy, intoxicated crowd of young people in search of my friends. Even after skipping the restless queue of people waiting outside, I was later than I should have been.

After drying myself off, changing my clothes and applying a bright layer of makeup behind a large trunk of tree near the riverbank, I had to stand in the freezing cold for nearly twenty minutes before my Uber arrived. I'd complain but I was choosing not to use the family chauffeur and waiting in impossible weather was part of the small town charm. After ditching my backpack near the river, I managed to warm up in the car before reaching the underground fighting circle.

I tried calling Ridley's phone thrice, but gave up when I couldn't even hear my own cell dialling over the noise. I squeezed through the bustling crowd, dodging all the flailing hands of the joint's bloodthirsty spectators.

Over the years, The Cut transformed itself to cater to its crowd's violent desires. During the day, it fit its natural appearance of a builder's beer parlour, but at night, especially during fight night, it converted into something more like a club; a hotspot for loud music, underage drinking, neon lights and scantily clad young adults.

The heart of this place however, was the glowing red boxing ring set right in the middle of the venue. The fighters made the match, but the dangerously electric energy both inside and outside the ring was what sold the tickets.

It was something of a glorified gladiator arena, with the wealthier onlookers sitting in private booths, sipping fine liquors whilst the more frequent patrons stood shoulder to shoulder, circling the ring.

I caught a small glimpse of two unrecognisable young men fighting in the ring, lunging at each other and splitting fresh skin open with their punches. I had to stop myself from visibly cringing as both men, of equal weight, height and muscle set out to pulverize tissue and cartilage. Over the music, I heard the medley of loud voices cheering and applauding each time someone landed a blow; an uproar of numbers, names and hand signals as bets were placed and money was exchanged.

After elbowing my way through the main throng of people stationed around the ring, I finally caught sight of my best friend's fierce cut-below-the-ears dark auburn hair. With her gilded skin consistently laced in velvet, leather and gold even in the densest of weathers, Ridley Cartwright stood out wherever she went. Yet, here amidst the blood bath, she looked nowhere like she belonged.

I strode towards the private table where she was settled alongside Toby, Temper and Ridge. Half empty alcohol bottles littered the tabletop with a cloud of smoke directly above as Toby clamped a joint in between his teeth and Temper blew a chain of opaque vapor upward from her e-cigarette. As soon as my friends noticed me, they waved me over and made space in the circular booth.

When I reached the table, I pointed at Temper, "I thought you quit last week."

"Today's her last day," Ridley murmured sardonically. I could feel the heat of her gaze on me, studying my slightly damp hair and inability to meet her eyes. "She promised she'd quit after fight night."

"How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence," Toby lazily smirked, gliding his fingers through his sunlit blonde hair and tilting his dark sunglasses to wink at me. The cherry-lit joint hanging from his mouth moved as he spoke, drawing even more attention to his chiseled jawline and yellow-flecked olive eyes. Spread out across the padded booth-seat in a freshly pressed vintage suit, October "Toby" Peters looked every part the hedonistic young king he truly was.