I steered the car toward a KFC drive in.
She shook her head. “No, don’t. I forgot to take money with me.”
She was lying.
I ordered a box of wings and fries, and handed them to her.
“I can’t accept that,” she said quietly.
“It’s chicken and fries, not a Rolex.”
Her eyes darted to the watch on my wrist. Not a Rolex, but not less expensive.
Her resolve didn’t last long. She quickly dug into the food as if her last decent meal had been longer back than just yesterday. I watched her from the corner of my eye as my car glided through traffic. Her nails were cut short, not the long red fake nails I was used to.
“What are you doing? You look young for a business man or lawyer,” she said when she was done eating.
“Business man? Lawyer?”
She shrugged. “Because of the suit and the car.”
“Nothing like that, no.”
Her eyes lingered on the scars on my knuckles and she didn’t say anything anymore. She sat up suddenly. “I recognize the street. Turn left here.”
I did, and slowed when she pointed at an apartment complex. The place seemed distantly familiar. She opened the door, then turned to me. “Thank you for the ride. I doubt anyone else would have picked me up the way I look. They’d probably have thought I want to rob them. Good thing you aren’t scared of girls in flip-flops.”
My lips twitched at her joke. “No, I’m not scared of anything.”
She laughed, then quieted, blue eyes tracing my face. “I should go.”
She got out and closed the door. Then she quickly ran for cover. I watched her fumble with the keys for a while before she disappeared from view. Strange girl.
I glanced back out the window as the Mercedes drove off. I couldn’t believe I’d let a stranger drive me home. And I couldn’t believe I’d let him buy me food. I’d thought I’d outgrown that kind of thing. Back when I was a little girl, strangers had occasionally bought me food because they’d felt pity for me. But this guy, he hadn’t showed any signs of pity. And the suit, somehow it had been wrong on him.
He hadn’t revealed what he was doing. Not a lawyer or business man. What then? Perhaps he had rich parents but he didn’t seem like the rich-kid type.
Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t see him again. A man like him with a car like that, he would spend his days on golf courses and in fancy restaurants, not in the places where I could work.
Dad wasn’t home. Considering the force of the rainfall, I’d be stuck in the apartment for a while. I walked into the kitchen, checked the fridge, but found it as empty as in the morning, then sank down on a chair. I was cold and tired. I’d have to hang my clothes to dry soon, so I could wear them tomorrow again. The dress was the nicest piece of clothing I owned. If I wanted to have any chance securing a job at this arena, I needed to wear it.
This new beginning wasn’t very promising so far.
The next day I went in search for Roger’s Arena, It took me a while and eventually I had to ask passersby for the way. They looked at me like I had lost my mind for asking for a place like that. What kind of place had the guy suggested to me?
When I finally found Roger’s Arena, a nondescript building with a small red neon sign with its name beside the steel entrance door, and stepped inside, I began to understand why people had reacted the way they had.
The bar wasn’t exactly a cocktail bar or night club. It was a huge hall that might have been a storage facility once. There was a bar counter on the right side but my eyes were drawn to the huge fighting cage in the center of the large room. Tables were arranged all around it, and there were also a few red leather booths against the walls for the well-off customers, I supposed.
The floor was bare stone. The walls were too, but they were covered with wire mesh fence and woven into it were red neon tubes that formed words like Honor, Pain, Blood, Victory, Strength.
I hesitated in the front, half a mind to turn around and leave, but then a black-haired woman headed my way. She must have been thirty, thirty-one perhaps? Her eyes were heavily lined and her lips were a bright pink. It clashed with the red glow of the neon lights. She didn’t smile, but didn’t exactly look unfriendly either. “Are you new? You’re late. In thirty minutes the first customers will arrive and I haven’t even cleaned the tables or the changing rooms yet.”
“I’m not really working here,” I said slowly. And I wasn’t sure it was a place I should consider working.