Montaine (15 page)

“No change,” Trent said
softly. “Still breathing and still asleep.”

“So, how were the
fights?” She turned down a page corner in her book and set it on a table that
was crowded with half-filled coffee cups.

“Not my finest moment, I
have to say.” Trent stepped toward the wall and leaned his back against it, his
arms crossed over his chest. “But I managed to squeak out a victory.” He
glanced at me. Reading his mind, I knelt over the duffel and retrieved the wad
of money.

“For you.” I placed the
roll of bills in Esmeralda’s palm and closed her fingers over it.

“Thank you.” Her voice
cracked. A single tear coursed down her smooth cheek.

I settled into a cold
plastic chair by the door and watched the steady blinking of Oscar’s monitors.

“I looked for Hades, but
he wasn’t there tonight.” Trent bit his lip and stared at the scuffed linoleum
floor. “Another fighter gave me some information, but I’m not sure what to make
of it.” He paused. “He said that Hades was looking for me the night Oscar was
hurt. He wanted to fight me. I don’t understand. Hades seems familiar, but I
can’t place him. He apparently knows me. But if he wanted to fight me, how did
he end up fighting Oscar instead?”

“The list.” Esmeralda’s
eyes widened. She sat upright and gripped the square ends of the chair arms.

“The list?” Trent pushed
himself from the wall and stood up straight.

“The registration list.
When I register you and Oscar every week, I give your names and I get the
numbers. The girl at the table sometimes gets the names in the wrong order. I
figure it doesn’t matter, so I don’t bother correcting her. Oscar always
prefers to fight second, so he just takes the higher number. Who cares what the
list says?”

“Hades does. He took the
number next to mine because he thought we would be fighting me. But that was
the number that Oscar took.”

“Exactly.” She rested her
forehead in her palm. “If I had changed it…if I had corrected it…”

“He would have fought me
instead.”

“But somebody on the
inside had to have helped him, right?” I asked. “The numbers are distributed by
random chance. In order to get a specific number, he had to pay somebody off.”

Trent nodded, still
staring at the floor.

“Len?” Esmeralda asked.

“I doubt it.” Trent
scratched his chin and ran his hand absent-mindedly through his thick black
hair. “Len is clean. He wouldn’t take money under the table.”

“If Hades wanted to fight
you,” she asked, “why wouldn’t he have come back tonight to finish the job?”

“Maybe he’s nervous because
of what happened to Oscar,” Trent said. “He’s lying low to see how things shake
out.”

“Who is he, though?”
Esmeralda peered into the collection of cups with cold coffee dregs and
wrinkled her lip in disgust. “You said that you recognized him.”

“Sort of.” Trent rested
his hands on the edge of Oscar’s bed and leaned forward, his meaty shoulders curling
inward. “I mean, I can swear that I’ve seen him before, but I have no idea when
or where.” He bit his lip thoughtfully. “There is something else. Hades was
with another guy who sounds an awful lot like my buddy, Kill. I could be
jumping to conclusions. Kill has become a bit of a problem lately, but I can’t
imagine that he’d want to see me hurt. I don’t know. None of this makes any
sense to me.”

Esmeralda pushed herself
to her feet and arched her back in a long stretch. “I could use another cup of
coffee.”

“I’ll come with you.” I
hopped from my seat. “I could use some coffee too.”

She nodded and glanced at
Trent.

“I’ll hold down the
fort,” he said with a thin smile.

A few minutes later,
Esmeralda and I stood in front of the coffee machine, watching as a stream of dark
liquid dripped into a white paper cup.

“So, what’s on your mind,
Kat?” She turned to me, her head cocked to the side.

“What do you mean?” I had
offered to accompany her on the coffee run with the thought of confiding my
discovery of Hades’ true identity, but the words stalled in my throat.

“You were very quiet back
in the room. You jumped out of your seat at the chance to come get coffee. Is
there something you want to tell me? Are things ok between you and Trent?”

She reached for the cup and
handed it to me, pressing the button for another dose of the bitter brew that
immediately began to drip into a fresh cup. I poured a thimble of cream into
mine and stirred it with a wooden stick.

“Things are great with
Trent. I mean, I think things are great. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell with
him. In any event, that’s not exactly what I wanted to talk about.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure I know
who Hades is.”

“Are you serious? Who is
he? Why haven’t you told Trent?” She blew over the top of her coffee and
ventured a tiny sip, immediately recoiling from the heat.

“I’m afraid to tell
Trent. I’m scared of what will happen if I do.”

“Can you tell me?”

I hesitated. Esmeralda
had a right to the truth. But I needed to balance that right with my solemn
promise to keep all of Trent’s secrets.

“There was a guy from
Trent’s past,” I began. “He and Trent had a violent run-in during their college
days. I can’t really say any more than that. The guy has a reason to hold a
grudge against Trent. I think that guy is Hades. He’s come back for revenge. The
things is, Trent has an even bigger reason to want revenge, especially after
what happened to Oscar. If I tell Trent who Hades really is, I know he will
seek revenge. I won’t be able to stop him. No one will. And I’m terrified that,
if he does, one of them will not survive.”

She nodded slowly and
took a small sip of coffee, one arm crossed over her stomach and supporting her
other elbow.

“I don’t want any more
violence. I don’t want any more bloodshed,” she said with a deep sigh. “I just
want Oscar to wake up. I want him to be safe and to get better. I don’t want
Trent comatose in the bed next to him or in jail or dead. I can’t stand any
more of this.”

Her shoulders slumped. She
bowed her head. I wrapped an arm around her back.

“I know, Ezzie.”

A sob broke from her
throat and echoed in the empty hallway. She swiped a few tears from her cheeks.

“Don’t tell him,” she
said decisively. “It may not matter. He may find out anyway. But revenge won’t
bring Oscar back to me. It won’t change a thing for the better.” Her eyes, damp
with tears, met mine. “Don’t tell him, Kat.”

I nodded and sipped my
coffee. We returned to Oscar’s room in silence.

CONFERENCE ROOM. 9:30.
CONTEST WINNER ANNOUNCED.

The email blazed across
our screens in the early hours of the following Friday. I’d worked around the
clock the prior weekend to finish my story, running up and down the island of
Manhattan and across the outer boroughs to complete my interviews.

I certainly didn’t think
that I would win the contest. The magazine housed a tremendous amount of
journalistic firepower. I was simply a novice intern. Nevertheless, I was proud
of my writing. I thought it captured an angle of the fighting world that rarely
came to light. It was exactly the kind of human interest piece that I hoped to
establish as a foundation for my future sports journalism career. I also hoped
that Trent approved of my work. I valued his opinion tremendously and wanted
more than anything to make him proud.

“You coming, hotshot?”
Tony slapped my shoulder with a small notebook and perched on the corner of my
desk.

“To the meeting? We still
have another fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, I know. But I want
to get a good seat up at the front. That way, Trent can easily hand over my
trophy.”

“Well, aren’t you cocky
all of a sudden? What’s with this burst of confidence? Is it the magic of new
love?”

I gathered my hands under
my chin, tilted my head in a swooning gesture, and batted my eyelashes. Tony
blushed to the tips of his ears.

“Nah, I’m just kidding. I
like my story, but I don’t think it’s cover-worthy. We’ll see, I guess.”

“That we will, my
friend.” I pushed my chair back from my desk. “Alright, let’s go grab those seats.”

We joined a trickle of staff
headed toward the conference room. Approaching Trent’s office, I heard Kill’s
shrill voice and Miklos’s subdued murmur. In the instant that I passed the open
doorway, Trent looked up. He leaned over his desk, his fists resting on the
surface and his arms stretched straight, roped through with tense muscles. Kill
and Miklos stood on either side of him. Trent’s expression flashed a momentary
anger. One corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk as our eyes met. I
stopped and smiled in return.

A huff from Kill drew my
attention. He sneered at me, his raised lip revealing a sharp yellowish canine.

Tony tapped me on the
back, a signal to keep walking. We entered the conference room and chose two
seats near the front. My hands fidgeted with nerves, alternately smoothing the
skirt of my sea green sundress, adjusting the sideways ponytail that trailed
over my bare shoulder, and twisting my tiny pearl stud earrings.

“Nervous, are ya?” Tony
poked me in the ribs with an index finger.

“Quit it, you jerk.” I
flapped his hand away. “No, I’m not nervous,” I lied. “I don’t stand a snowball’s
chance in hell of winning this contest.”

“Don’t be so sure, Kat.”
He winked. “I might make you eat those words later.”

“So, anyway, Romeo,” I
said with a coy lilt to my voice, “are you still hush-hush about your
relationship with Marcie? How are things going? She won’t tell me a thing.”

“Really?” A worried
shadow crossed his face. “Does she usually tell you about the guys she dates?”

“In excruciating detail.”
Sensing his anxiety, I backtracked. “But those guys were disposable. I think
she likes you. It’s different.”

He smiled. “Good. I think
I like her too. That’s a secret for now, by the way. I have a reputation to
maintain.” He popped the collar on his polo. We both laughed.

The seats filled up in
groups of twos and threes. A steady undercurrent of anxious chatter surrounded
us on all sides.

“Secret, huh? You expect
me to keep your secrets, buddy? Fat chance.”

Trent appeared in the
doorway. The room fell silent. He carried a stack of papers and slapped them onto
the metal tabletop. Kill and Miklos followed close behind. Trent faced the room
in a commanding stance, his feet spread wide apart and his arms crossed over
his chest. The thin coating of stubble over his cheeks and chin leant him a
slightly dangerous aspect, as did the tight contours of his black t-shirt. His
hair was slicked back from his forehead. His eyes glinted a cool sapphire blue
as he scanned the room from one side to the other.

“I see you all got my
email,” he rumbled in a deep bass.

Light laughter bubbled from
the periphery. Looking around at my fellow writers, I saw others with fidgeting
fingers and nervous ticks.

“One month ago, I
presented you all with a challenge and an opportunity. Some of you rose to the
occasion. Some of you did not.” His head swiveled in my direction. My heart
sank with dread. “Miklos and I poured over your submissions during the past
couple of days. We were unanimous in our choice.”

He paused, gazing around
the room. When I lifted my palms, I saw that they had left wet sweat prints on
the table.

“Now, I must say that I
am not surprised by the winner,” he continued. “I already knew that this person
possessed incredible talent.” I glanced quickly at Kill. A smug grin stretched
across his thin lips. “But I was still blown away by the quality of her work.”

At the word “her,” a
smattering of heads lifted to attention around the room. Faces turned as a realization
began to dawn on the all-male audience. I stayed rooted to my seat, too shocked
to move, my throat parched.
Can this actually be happening? Is this a dream?
As if reading my mind, Tony pinched my forearm and chuckled.

“So, Miss Raney, I would
like to offer you my heartfelt congratulations.” Trent held out his hand. “You
won. Your story will be featured on the cover of
KTFO
magazine.”

“Th—thank you,” I
stammered.

I placed my shaking hand
in his iron grip, a current of passionate electricity flowing between us in
that instant of contact. Our eyes locked for a weighty moment.

“You earned it,” he
whispered.

Tony began a slow clap
that quickly grew into a vigorous round of applause from the assembled staff. I
smiled shyly and nodded in acknowledgement. I was still too stunned to register
any kind of a coherent reaction.

“Well, that’s fucking
rich.” Kill’s snarling voice sliced through the applause. He rose from his
chair, his hands clenched into tight fists. He face was a mottled canvas of
pinks and reds. His pale eyes gleamed metallic. His sunken chest heaved with
each ragged breath.

Trent spun on his heel.
My pulse quickened, pounding in rapid drumbeats in my flushed temples. The audience
stilled their clapping hands and stiffened with tension.

“Do you have something
you’d like to say, Mr. Killigrew?” Trent exuded a cold and lethal calm.

Kill stood transfixed with
rage for a full minute. His labored breathing echoed in the still room, the
rough inhale and exhale of a furious and cornered animal.

“This is bullshit,” he
seethed.

“What exactly are you
referring to as bullshit?” Trent stepped closer until they were almost nose to
nose.

“This contest. There’s no
way she wrote the best story. Look at her! She’s not a journalist. She’s a
piece of fluff. You only named her the winner because you’re fucking her. I
know it. You know it. Everybody in this room knows it.”

“Do they?” Trent turned
to the crowd. “How many people here are under the impression that I’m sleeping
with Miss Raney? Raise your hands.”

No hands went up. Trent
turned back to Kill.

“Well, Mr. Killigrew, it
looks like you’re the only one who holds that mistaken belief. And for your
information, you lost the contest because your story is the work of a
narcissistic hack of thoroughly mediocre abilities. I have carried you this
far. I will carry you no farther.”

“Be careful what you say,
Trent.” Kill’s eyes burned with a white-hot fury.

“No,” Trent said simply.
“I will not be careful with you. Not anymore.”

“I can cause you a lot of
pain.”

“I know. I’m not scared.”

The two stared at each
other across the table. Trent maintained an air of calm detachment. Kill
radiated a boiling rage.

With a clatter that reverberated
loudly in the strained hush, Kill knocked his chair against the steel table. He
stomped to the door and slammed his palms against it, sending it crashing into
the opposite wall with a vicious thwack. He stormed from the room, head thrust
forward in a charging posture. His heel clicks echoed in the hallway in a steadily
decreasing volume.

“Does anyone else have
any helpful comments regarding the contest, Miss Raney, or myself?” Trent stood
in the center of the room with his hands on his hips. He slowly shifted his
gaze around the rectangle of faces in an open challenge. A few people bravely
met his eye. Most stared at the table, their notebooks, or the floor. No one
spoke.

“Well, then.” He relaxed
his arms and clapped twice with a sound like the snaps of bursting firecrackers.
“Good job, everyone. This meeting is dismissed.”

***

“Cheers to Kat Raney,
America’s newest up-and-coming sports reporter. This is only the beginning.”

Trent held a beer bottle
over the slick, polished black table that was dotted here and there with pools
of water from our chilled drinks. I clinked my own bottle against it. Marcie
and Tony did the same.

“I’m so proud of you,
Kitty Kat!” Marcie sat on the edge of her seat, leaning eagerly forward. Tony’s
hand rested calmly on the small of her back. She wore a tight sheath dress in
an electric blue fabric flecked with sparkles. Her purple eyeshadow spread
dramatically to the sides like butterfly wings.

“I’m proud of you too,
Kitty Kat.” Trent winked.

He gave no impression
that the morning altercation with Kill still weighed on his mind, but I knew
better. Kill had been his best friend for fifteen years. No one could easily
put aside that kind of betrayal.

“Seriously, Kat!” Marcie
gushed. “I knew you could do it. You should thank me. I’m the one who convinced
you to apply for the internship, remember?”

She turned to Trent, whose
lips curled in amusement.

“Kat lacks confidence.”
She broke into a sing-song falsetto imitation. “Wah wah wah. I’ll never get the
internship. He’ll never pick me. I shouldn’t even try.” She swallowed a long
slug of beer. “Bullshit,” I told her. “Yes he will! And by the end of the
summer, he’ll be in love with you too! Looks like I was right after all.” She
sat backwards with a satisfied nod. Tony slipped his hand away just in time to
avoid having it crushed against the seat back.

I choked on a sip of beer
and covered my mouth with a napkin. Trent merely raised his eyebrows.

 “Well,” Tony interjected.
“I will happily add my congratulations to the mix. I didn’t stand a chance
against you, Kat.”

“Don’t sell yourself
short.” Trent clapped him on the shoulder. “Your story was great. It wasn’t an
easy decision by any means.”

Tony beamed with the
admiring affection of a younger brother. “Thanks, Trent. That means a lot to
me.”

The club pulsed with life
around us. Waitresses in strappy black cocktail dresses balanced silver trays
of martini glasses, filled to their brims with jewel-toned liquids in reds and
blues and greens. A nearby table of men in open-collared shiny shirts and thick
gold chains, their hair hard-slicked into helmets, broke into riotous laughter.
One of the men clutched the waist of a waifish girl whose knobby knees and
frightened expression reminded me of a lost fawn. The man tilted his chin in
Trent’s direction and spoke in a foreign language while his mates shot covert
glances at our table.

 This was my first real
taste of the thrill and danger of Trent’s celebrity. The long line of partygoers
outside had eyed us with interest from behind a barrier of velvet ropes as we’d
sailed through the club’s entrance. The girls, rail-thin and glistening, struck
poses in their tiny strips of stretched fabric and sky-high stilettos. Their eyelids,
coated in smudged layers of black liner, lowered with a predatory intensity.
They reminded me of jungle cats on the prowl. I clung tightly to Trent’s arm,
feeling hopelessly out of place in my simple sundress and flats.

“Trent!” a voice had
shouted from the sidewalk. “Trent, over here!” I’d turned just in time to catch
a blinding camera flash that obscured my vision behind a thousand stars as
Trent gripped my hand and pulled me through the doors into the dim and
throbbing interior.

“So, how long has this
been a thing?” Trent held his beer bottle by the neck and poked the end at Tony
and Marcie. They glanced at each other.

“A week or two?” Tony
said with uncertainty

“Already forgetting your
anniversary. Not a good sign.” Trent shook his head.

Marcie tousled Tony’s
hair and kissed him on the temple. Trent’s hand dropped onto my knee and edged
up my bare thigh.

He leaned over and spoke
into my ear. “I’m a little surprised that you got Ezzie to talk to you so
freely. I never realized that she was so opposed to Oscar’s fighting. I
wouldn’t have pushed him into it if I’d known.”