The next few days were hellish, even though the preparations she was dealing with were not for Alex or her mother.
She had them cremated, and wondered what poor souls William had put in her home. She would give their ashes back to William, have them taken care of. She didn’t want them.
There was an investigation. It yielded what she expected – an accidental gas line rupture. Her mother was most likely asleep downstairs while her sister was upstairs, which would explain why neither of them smelled it. When her ‘mother’ lit a match downstairs, it ignited the whole lower floor.
Max checked into a hotel.
Four days after the house went down in flames, Max went to The Pit.
She charged in and went straight upstairs, and barged into Variable’s office.
His expression as wary. He hadn’t seen her since she’d accused him of blowing up her house, and he wasn’t sure how crazy she was at the moment.
“When is your next event?” she asked quietly.
Disquieted, Variable looked at her intently.
“In a few hours,” he said.
“I want in,” Max said simply.
“Max-“
“Maverick. Don’t ever call me Max again. Max doesn’t exist anymore. Now there is only Maverick,” she said coldly. As she spoke them, Max realized that her words were true. She would have to completely become Maverick to take Variable down.
“Okay. Maverick. Are you sure that you’re up for this? It’s only been four days –“
“I want in, Variable. Just put me on the lists,” she said.
He hesitated.
“Okay. I’ll put you down for three fights,” he said.
“More. Hell of a lot more,” Max said, her voice dead.
“Maverick – “
“Put me down for eight. If I’ve still got steam, I’ll burn it off elsewhere,” she said.
“Maverick, you’ve only ever done seven before. Can you handle eight?” he asked.
“I know I can handle a hell of a lot more than eight. Just put me down for them,” she said.
With that, she left.
She trained like a maniac for the next hour. What others attributed to grief was really determination. She would do whatever she had to in order to get Variable to think she was just crazy enough for the tournament.
And she would get him.
The customers were pouring in. More and more by the minute; there were at least two hundred at the moment and still more to come.
Max stood on the second floor balcony as she watched them come in. Men and women in formal wear, semi-formal wear and even a few in jeans and dress shirts as they chitchatted with each other.
Apparently Variable was trying to class things up, because waiters milled around with complimentary champagne, and a bar had been set up in the far corner.
“Drinks and a goddamned show,” she muttered.
“Damn right,” Variable agreed as he came to stand beside her.
Max did not acknowledge his existence. He was just a nuisance; nothing more.
“Are you sure about tonight?” he murmured as he edged closer.
Max stared at him for a long moment. She poured every bit of hatred, self-loathing and anger she had built up inside of her into that stare.
Variable’s face shifted and he stared back.
“Why haven’t we ever gotten together, Maverick?” he murmured as he looked her up and down.
Disgust rolled through her like an oily snake.
“You know why,” she said coldly.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” he brushed the memory off like a piece of lint.
Restless, Max pushed away from the railing.
“I’ve got to get ready,” she murmured.
She dressed in the locker room, and was just tugging her running shorts into place as Rover entered.
Max’s eyes met hers, then looked away.
Automatically, Rover set her bag at the locker next to Max’s.
“You’re not welcome by me. Find somewhere else,” Max muttered. Only Rover could hear her; everyone else in the locker room was distracted.
“It’ll look suspicious, and you know it, Maverick,” Rover muttered as she opened her locker.
Max pushed away from her as she braided her hair from the top of her head down, then securely pinned the length of the braid against her head. The pins were good; they would stay. Even if someone tugged at her hair, which rarely happened.
She went downstairs.
