Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“You need a touch-up, hon?” she asks Molly.
“Oh. Do I?” Molly glances up at me.
She looks fine to me, but I want her to be comfortable. “Whatever you need.”
“Let me see.” The woman steps closer, pulls a puff-looking thing out and dabs at Molly’s face, then sweeps something under her eyes. She brushes a few strands of Molly’s hair into place and nods. “Good to go.” She leans in closer. “Good job out there. That little witch had it coming and you gave it to her.”
Molly blushes and glances away. “Thank you.”
“Thanks.” I nod at her and lead Molly down the long hallway.
Another woman meets us side stage out of view of the audience. “We moved Kiki to the opposite end of the stage,” she says.
“You better keep her the fuck away from us,” I warn.
“I don’t think you have to worry about it.” The woman cracks a smile. “She’ll think twice about coming at Molly now.” She pats Molly’s shoulder and gives her a quick nod of approval.
Molly shrugs and ducks her head as if it was nothing. Only I know how much the burst of violence bothers her. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her ear. “Obviously, they’re not going to stop fights from breaking out. I’ll be watching better this time,” I promise.
I’m still furious with myself for letting anyone get that close to her.
“Okay, go ahead,” the woman tells us.
I keep Molly on my left, shielding her from both the audience and everyone on stage.
The audience claps once they see me. But when Molly peeks around my body and they get a glimpse of her, they absolutely lose their shit. The lights fan out over the crowd, so we can actually see them. Women stand up, whistling and clapping. A few people chant her name. Molly lifts her hand in a quick, shy wave.
We return to our seats on the couch. This time, I keep a bit of space between us in case I need to launch myself into the air and pummel someone. Molly seems to understand my intention and flashes a quick smile at me. I reach over and slide my hand over hers, keeping that connection.
“Everyone have cooler heads now?” Matt asks.
I glare at him. “You tell me.”
He clears his throat and focuses on Molly. “That’s some right hook you’ve got, Molly. Is Stonewall responsible for teaching you that?”
“I have a big brother who’s always taught me not to take shit from anyone.”
“Fuck yeah!” Woolly shouts.
“That’s a fighter’s girl!” Pirate yells.
Laughter echoes through the studio.
Finally, Matt turns his attention to some of the other guys.
“Venom, you seemed to take on a mentor or big brother role to Griff and Woolly. How did it feel to have the student surpass the master?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
“I’m proud of my teammates.” Venom keeps his answers short. “They did good.”
Frustrated, Matt prowls around the stage, pestering the other guys with questions. I tune them out and focus on Molly. She seems calm now—her breathing’s normal, posture relaxed. But her eyes keep nervously darting around like she’s expecting another attack. Every now and then she flicks her gaze toward Matt and whoever he’s badgering. A faint smile or a short laugh ghosts her lips but otherwise I don’t even think she’s listening.
After Matt’s spoken to all of the contestants at least once, he stops in front of Naptime.
“All those weeks and you came out the victor. How did that feel?”
Naptime opens his mouth to answer—something obnoxious, probably—but the audience boos him into silence.
Shit, that’s embarrassing.
“Wow.” Matt wipes his hand across his forehead in a corny, fake-ass move. “Our audience has strong feelings about this subject.”
“Fuck all of ya!” Naptime jumps up and throws his hands in the air. “I’ll fuck all ya up right now. Come here.” He points to someone in the audience. Could be a dad in the second row hurling insults at Naptime or the grandmother waving her middle finger at him in the front row. It’s hard to tell which person he’s challenging.
A huge guy that looks like he was carved out of boulders lunges out of his seat and runs toward the stage, cursing at Naptime. Two equally large security guards jump into action, capturing him before he gets too close. Another security guard bear-hugs Naptime and drags him back to his chair next to Kiki.
“Everyone, calm down,” Matt says. “Phew, well, I guess that explains my next question.”
Matt focuses on me.
Shit. I don’t want to accuse Naptime of cheating. I know what he did was underhanded. The audience seems to know it. But saying it just makes me look bad.
“Well, Griff, as you know Mike ‘Magic’ Everson has issued a challenge for you to fight him in Vegas,” Matt says with that fake, game show announcer voice I’ve grown to despise.