Death Blow (6 page)

“Lila,” she answered, taking a bigger sip of her drink,
forcing herself to return Barrett’s stare.

“Well, Lila,” he turned her name over slowly in his mouth,
and Lila thought she was going to pounce on him right then and there. “What the
fuck are you doing here?” Barrett could bathe a girl in charm and then, just
like that, turn it so quickly into a disgustingly self-assured condescension.

“I was thinking about working here, but then I saw the kind
of psychopaths that fight in that ring, and I’m not so sure I want to anymore.”
She wasn’t smiling this time, even though she didn’t mean it. She threw the
rest of her drink back and set the glass on the bar. Barrett eyed her curiously
now.

“Psychopath? You think you’re the first one to call me that?”
His eyes narrowed and he cocked his eyebrow, challenging Lila, owning up to his
own brutal performance. He was fascinating, Lila had to give him that.

“I can’t imagine anyone calling you anything else,” she
returned.

“Once I fuck you, you’ll come up with a wide array of
nicknames,” he gibed. “Trust me, it happens every time.”

Lila’d thought he couldn’t shock her, but he’d done it. She
bit down on her bottom lip in surprise and without thinking she swung her palm
out and slapped Barrett across his face. It wasn’t hard, but it was swift and
unexpected, and when Barrett’s eyes came back to hers, he looked amazed, he clearly
couldn’t believe what had happened either. Lila’s hand burned where she’d made
contact with his stubble-covered face. She could feel her face flushing and she
had no idea if she’d ever be able to recover from what she had just done. She
spun around on her Louboutins and stalked back to the other end of the bar.
Raechelle quickly followed.

“What the fuck just happened?!” she squealed.

“I—I don’t know,” Lila said, ignoring the heat of Barrett’s
gaze.

“No one’s
ever
slapped Barrett, and he deserves it
all the goddamn time!” Raechelle was so excited, and it gave Lila courage and
made her feel vindicated.

“Well, someone has to teach an asshole not to be one, and if
it’s me, I guess that’s all right.” Lila bent over and picked up her clutch,
looking for something, anything to do. Raechelle laughed loudly—Lila knew that
Barrett was still watching them—and threw her hand up for a big high-five with
Lila. Lila gave it to her, not looking up at either Raechelle or Barrett. Her
head was spinning. She was pulled in so many directions, overwhelmed by so many
new and suffocating feelings.

She distracted herself by fingering the money in her purse
and trying to count it, but in reality she was just staring blindly into the
purse. In her periphery, she saw Barrett gulp the rest of his second drink and
slam the glass down on the bar, definitely harder this time. She saw him look
at her and then he turned and headed to the elevator.

Lila felt a surprisingly heavy dose of disappointment when
she realized he was leaving for good. He shook hands with the bouncers—such a
kind, polite gesture for such a shithead—stepped into the elevator and didn’t
turn around as the doors closed.

“How’d you do tonight, girlie?” Raechelle asked. The crowd
had receded from the bar back to the seats. Lila tried to swallow her emotions
and focus. She counted out the bills she’d been shoving in her clutch all
night.

“Raechelle…” she said breathlessly. Raechelle smiled at her,
leaned over to glance at the wads of cash. Lila couldn’t have counted
correctly. There had to be a mistake.

“What’d you get? Looks like…” Raechelle inspected a little
more closely, “about 2? Maybe 3?” Raechelle grinned at Lila.

“How can you tell?” She was shocked that Raechelle had
gotten so close just by glancing at the money pile. Lila’d counted $247—that
much! For only a round or two of running drinks? “Pass me the counterfeit
marker,” she joked, shaking her head amazedly at Raechelle, “because most of
this has to be fake, right?”

“I can guess ‘cause I work here too, remember? I know
exactly how things go.” Lila thumbed through the bills. “I know, it’s shocking
at first, but believe me, there’ll come a day when suddenly $300 a night seems
like nothing.”

“I can’t imagine a day like that.”

“It’s sad, but it totally comes along. Me? If I’m not
walking away with at least $400 at the end of a night, I’m pissed,” Raechelle
confided.

“$400 a night? You’re pissed about that?!” Lila gawked.
“Plus the hourly? Christ, girl, what are you, living in a penthouse? Bathing in
champagne?” Raechelle slapped her arm lightly.

“Wear those Louboutins for a couple days and then we’ll
talk. This place’ll ruin any normal standards you may have in your life.” Lila
didn’t like the sound of this. It made her a little nervous. “But, thankfully,”
Raechelle added, “once it does that, it won’t let you down on its end. Again,
pissed if it’s less than $400 a night.”

“Does that happen often?” Lila asked.

“Depends,” Raechelle responded, cleaning up the bar area.
“Not often, I wouldn’t say. Occasionally, a bad fight, or a bad couple fights
go down and the customers take it out on us. Don’t happen often, but it
definitely happens. No, I’d say once or twice a month, I walk out with less
than $400. But I been working here a long time, too,” she grinned. “If you’re
making that much money right off the bat, I’ll take you out.” Lila laughed,
sliding the money back into her clutch and closing it. “No, seriously,”
Raechelle feigned seriousness, “I will actually take you out.”

“Okay, okay, note to self, don’t tell Raechelle when you
make over $400,” Lila laughed.

“Oh, bitch, I will come for you!” Raechelle took a fighting
stance and bobbed from side to side. “Lay that Jackson smackdown on you.”

“You won’t even have a chance,” Lila came back, “because
I’ll already have you in the Barrett headlock.”

“If you’re not careful, Barrett’s gonna have
you
in a
headlock,” Raechelle winked. “And believe me, he’s headlocked so many girls he
won’t even know which one you are.” Lila felt a twinge in her lungs. She’d
figured he was a player, but it was different to hear Raechelle say it.

“Oh yeah?” She played it cool. “How many times he headlocked
you, hmmm?”

“Hah!” Raechelle laughed loudly. “Not my type.”

“No?” Lila was a little surprised. “Who is your type?
Jackson more your style?”

“Nah, girl. Plus, Jackson’s got a girlfriend. She wasn’t
here tonight, but I bet you’ll meet her tomorrow when you go to the Boss’
house.”

“Oh, right, I forgot about all that already.”

“Too busy fantasizing about that—“

“Headlock, yes, I get it, you think I’m into Barrett.” Lila
felt a little like she was back in middle school, trying to hide her crush from
the popular girls. Not that she cared whether Raechelle knew how into Barrett
she was—it was more that she didn’t want to be into Barrett, at all, and
admitting to it seemed like a surefire way to do herself in.

“Even if you aren’t, he seemed into you, so.” Raechelle
shrugged mischievously. She knew what she was doing, ribbing Lila, sinking the
barbs just so. Lila didn’t care if it was stupid: she knew she had to at least
fake disinterest, whether to save face or save herself.

“Give me a break. You keep talking about him and I’m not
going to believe you when you say you aren’t
into his headlock
as well.”
Lila looked around. People didn’t seem to be leaving, even though the fights
were over and it was nearing 1AM. “What time does this place close up?”

“Depends on the crowd. If there’s no one here, sometimes
we’ll close at 2. If people are still drinking and still having a good time—and
still tipping like they’re having a good time—then we’ll keep it open until 4
or 5 sometimes. There are no rules.”

“How are there no rules? The city has regulations—“ Lila
knew them well, partially because of working at the Dirty Pint, partially
through being such good friends with the Sheriff. Raechelle cut her off.

“You’ll find that the Boss and Cassandra have things pretty
much figured out.” She winked again, but this time, it made Lila feel a little
uncomfortable. She hadn’t even stopped to think that maybe this—the fighting,
the underground club—was all potentially illegal. And right now, she was tired,
and she didn’t want to know whether it was or not, or what deal the Boss and
Cassandra had worked out. She just wanted to go home.

“All right. Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” Lila was
suddenly very tired.

“You bet your sweet ass you will. Can’t wait to get to know
ya.” Raechelle clunked over and gave Lila a hug. Lila didn’t really have any friends,
not for a long time now, and this affection from Raechelle was a little
awkward, sure, but mostly Lila found it really touching. She was excited to get
to know Raechelle, too. It was so nice to feel that again. Lila hugged her back.

“Goodnight, Raechelle.”

“Get home safe, sweetie.” Raechelle got back to tidying up
what she could at the bar, and it looked like a few patrons were starting
towards the bar again. Lila guessed it’d be a slower night—Raechelle would
probably close at 2. Lila liked how easily she seemed to understand this place,
how effortlessly she fit right in. This was the best, strangest night she’d had
in a long time.

She headed over to the elevators, where the two bouncers
were beginning to let down their guard a bit. Flattop was sitting on a stool
now, and Baldy had taken off his sunglasses. Lyle and Cassandra had left—maybe
that was when people let their hair down a little.

“You have a good night, now.” Baldy said, more out of
obligation than politeness.

“You too, sir. I’ll see you around.” She felt like a different
person than when she walked in. Baldy flashed her a smile, and Flattop nodded
his head at her. On cue, the elevator doors opened, and Lila stepped inside.
The doors shut behind her, and again she rested her bare back against the cool
metal. She laid her head back and closed her eyes as she inched back up towards
the parking lot. Was she going to wake up in her bed and realize this had all
been a dream? She felt like years had gone by since she was last in this
elevator. She’d walked out of there with more money than she’d made in a good week
at the Dirty Pint. She’d met the sexiest, most infuriating man she’d ever laid
eyes on, and he may’ve actually been into her.

She stepped out into the garage. It was late, and the Belle
Chasse air was so quiet. Lila drew her arms around her in the coolness of the
April night, and the sound of her heels on the concrete echoed through the
space as she walked back to her car. She unlocked it and got in, slipping her
sweater back on and slipping off her Louboutins, which she placed gingerly on
the passenger seat. Her feet weren’t killing her, but she definitely hadn’t
realized how tired her legs were until now.
Well
, she thought,
no one
ever said they were easy to walk in
.  She pulled her cell phone out of her
clutch. A text was waiting for her.

-307 Delacroix Rd., by the water. Come over @ 5ish &
hang out. The whole fam will b there. :)

The drive home was nice, quiet, windows down. Lila
distracted herself by listening to the late-night radio, the soothing voice of
the graveyard shift DJ. Fatigue was setting in the further away from the club
she got, and she realized that, even if the pay and the set-up was infinitely
better than the Dirty Pint, it was still the same job, and she’d still be
exhausted when she got home.

As she pulled into her driveway, Lila noticed the kitchen
light was still on, and she braced herself for the scene inside. She got out of
the car, not bothering to put her shoes on, stepping carefully on the gravel of
the driveway until she made it to the steps. She walked slowly up them, buying
as much time as she could to enjoy the new state of her life before the reality
of everything fell back down around her. At the back door, she almost dropped
everything she had in her hands.

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, upright,
awake—a sight she’d never seen at this time of night—although he did have a
glass of vodka in front of him. It was almost as if he was waiting for her, but
why would he be? She turned the doorknob and stepped in, and when he looked at
her, she realized she’d been exactly right. He had been waiting for her.

“I know you didn’t work at the Dirty Pint dressed like
that,” he said giving her a once-over.

“I’m surprised you know anything,” Lila shot back. Her
control was already so much looser, and she knew it was dangerous to talk to
her dad like this. She’d trained herself very carefully not to mouth off to
him, but she’d felt so free and sassy all night that she couldn’t much help it.

She saw his jaw clench, as though he were really trying to
contain himself. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t up and in her face yet.

“And where the fuck were you, hm?” His voice was agitated
and angry, and she had no idea why.

“I got a new job,” she said shortly.

“Where?” he asked, but she sensed he wouldn’t be angry if he
didn’t know something already.

“Just a different bar.” She knew that wouldn’t work—her dad
knew every bar in town, and knew it well. She hadn’t even thought of how she
was going to evade his questions. She’d just assumed he wasn’t going to care if
the money—and more of it—was coming in. As long as the mortgage got paid and
there was food in the fridge, she didn’t even think he’d realize anything in
her life had changed.

He slammed his glass down on the table. “Don’t give me that
bullshit. Where are you working?” Lila kept silent, more out of loss for words
than defiance. Her father let out a cruel laugh. “You think I’m an idiot?” he
asked softly. “I know where you’re working, Lila. I can spot Club Malevolence
uniforms from a mile away.”

She didn’t know how to react. She’d never imagined that this
would be the conversation they’d have tonight. How did her dad even know about
Club Malevolence? He wasn’t exactly their target clientelle. She’d also lost
all of the gumption she’d stored up from the night. She felt weak and quiet and
submissive, and too tired to come back with answers right now. She headed to
her bedroom without another word or another glance at her dad. She’d try to
figure all this out later.

“Get out of there while you still can,” her dad said to her
as she reached for her bedroom door. His tone confused Lila—he sounded angry,
and nasty, but there was a hint of something warm, almost caring. She couldn’t
tell, didn’t really want to, she just needed to sleep. Maybe it was the wrong
thing to do, but she went into her room, shut the door, and went to bed.