messenger bag. If I’d had a gun, I would just have mugged the bastard.
“You know, it was really hot , the way you beat Hugo like that. I bet you spend a lot of time working out,” I said, catching up to him.
“Yeah, ya said that already, darlin’.”
“I know a place that’s still open, if you feel like grabbing a drink.”
“I don’t,” Freddie said. He still hadn’t noticed my exposed cleavage.
“C’mon—just one drink. A fight like that must make a man thirsty, no?”
“Look,” Freddie said, finally stopping to face me, “if you’re just lookin’ for a fuck, say so. We’ll go to a motel and make it quick, yeah?”
My gut turned and I stuttered. If I’d had a gun, I would’ve shot him dead. “What?” I resisted the urge to claw out his eyes.
“Ya said you’re not a workin’ girl, right?”
“I’m not a working girl .”
“So you’re just lookin’ for a quick fuck. No sense makin’ a night about it. Where’s the nearest motel? You’re clean, right?”
“Yes, I’m clean—I mean—you have me wrong. I’m not like that.”
“Fine.” Freddie scoffed and turned away, continuing towards his destination.
I had my in, but unfortunately, I still had my pride. I didn’t care if there was a million dollars in that bag; it wasn’t worth playing along with the prick. “How much did you pay him?”
“What?” asked Freddie.
“Hugo. How much did you pay him to take a dive?”
Freddie stopped. Suddenly, I had his full attention. “I didn’t pay him anythin’.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“I didn’t. I beat the slow bastard fair n’ square.” He gleamed with arrogance. It took all of my strength not to slap the grin off his face. I resisted the urge. Slapping him would have ended my chances.
“Bullshit,” I said.
“I ain’t bullshitin’ you.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“And why’s that, darlin’?” He started to laugh.
“Because no one’s ever beaten Hugo in the cage. And he’s fought lot of men—a lot of real men.”
“Real men?” Freddie erupted into loud, over-the-top laugher. “You need to rethink your idea of real men, toots.”
“To what? Cowards who fix fights?” When my voice echoed back to me, I realized I was shouting. I took a breath.
“I didn’t fix any fight, lady. Your boy Hugo is a slow, lumberin’ idiot with a big mouth.”
I took a step closer to Freddie and lowered my voice. “You know what I think?”
“What’s that, precious? What do ya think?”
“I don’t think you did it for the money. I think you go around, picking out the toughest looking guys, paying them a fat sum to let you publically beat the shit out of them so the clueless girls you take home don’t think the little dick between your legs is actually a big hairy vagina.”
He raised his brow and brought his finger up to his puckered his lips, mocking me. “Ooh. The little dick between my legs?” He scoffed. “You know, coming from the girl who was beggin’ to suck me off just a minute ago, that’s sayin’ a lot.”
“Admit it. It’s true.”
“Oh yeah? Or are you just tryin’ to get me to whip out my cock? Do you have a fuckin’ tape measure handy? Is that what you’ve got stuffed in your bra?”
“My bra isn’t stuffed,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “Sure it ain’t.”
“Open the bag,” I said.
For a precious moment, Freddie became silent. “Why?” he asked.
“If it wasn’t a fix, then that bag shouldn’t be filled with money, right?”
He rolled his head and sighed. “That doesn’t prove anythin’.”
“No?”
“I got a cut for winnin’ the fight. My cut’s in the bag. That’s it.”
“And a bigger cut for fixing the fight, I imagine.”
“For the last time, honey, I didn’t fix no fight. I beat the fat boy
“You know, it was really hot , the way you beat Hugo like that. I bet you spend a lot of time working out,” I said, catching up to him.
“Yeah, ya said that already, darlin’.”
“I know a place that’s still open, if you feel like grabbing a drink.”
“I don’t,” Freddie said. He still hadn’t noticed my exposed cleavage.
“C’mon—just one drink. A fight like that must make a man thirsty, no?”
“Look,” Freddie said, finally stopping to face me, “if you’re just lookin’ for a fuck, say so. We’ll go to a motel and make it quick, yeah?”
My gut turned and I stuttered. If I’d had a gun, I would’ve shot him dead. “What?” I resisted the urge to claw out his eyes.
“Ya said you’re not a workin’ girl, right?”
“I’m not a working girl .”
“So you’re just lookin’ for a quick fuck. No sense makin’ a night about it. Where’s the nearest motel? You’re clean, right?”
“Yes, I’m clean—I mean—you have me wrong. I’m not like that.”
“Fine.” Freddie scoffed and turned away, continuing towards his destination.
I had my in, but unfortunately, I still had my pride. I didn’t care if there was a million dollars in that bag; it wasn’t worth playing along with the prick. “How much did you pay him?”
“What?” asked Freddie.
“Hugo. How much did you pay him to take a dive?”
Freddie stopped. Suddenly, I had his full attention. “I didn’t pay him anythin’.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“I didn’t. I beat the slow bastard fair n’ square.” He gleamed with arrogance. It took all of my strength not to slap the grin off his face. I resisted the urge. Slapping him would have ended my chances.
“Bullshit,” I said.
“I ain’t bullshitin’ you.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“And why’s that, darlin’?” He started to laugh.
“Because no one’s ever beaten Hugo in the cage. And he’s fought lot of men—a lot of real men.”
“Real men?” Freddie erupted into loud, over-the-top laugher. “You need to rethink your idea of real men, toots.”
“To what? Cowards who fix fights?” When my voice echoed back to me, I realized I was shouting. I took a breath.
“I didn’t fix any fight, lady. Your boy Hugo is a slow, lumberin’ idiot with a big mouth.”
I took a step closer to Freddie and lowered my voice. “You know what I think?”
“What’s that, precious? What do ya think?”
“I don’t think you did it for the money. I think you go around, picking out the toughest looking guys, paying them a fat sum to let you publically beat the shit out of them so the clueless girls you take home don’t think the little dick between your legs is actually a big hairy vagina.”
He raised his brow and brought his finger up to his puckered his lips, mocking me. “Ooh. The little dick between my legs?” He scoffed. “You know, coming from the girl who was beggin’ to suck me off just a minute ago, that’s sayin’ a lot.”
“Admit it. It’s true.”
“Oh yeah? Or are you just tryin’ to get me to whip out my cock? Do you have a fuckin’ tape measure handy? Is that what you’ve got stuffed in your bra?”
“My bra isn’t stuffed,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “Sure it ain’t.”
“Open the bag,” I said.
For a precious moment, Freddie became silent. “Why?” he asked.
“If it wasn’t a fix, then that bag shouldn’t be filled with money, right?”
He rolled his head and sighed. “That doesn’t prove anythin’.”
“No?”
“I got a cut for winnin’ the fight. My cut’s in the bag. That’s it.”
“And a bigger cut for fixing the fight, I imagine.”
“For the last time, honey, I didn’t fix no fight. I beat the fat boy
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