Mojo (Page 59)

My mouth moved, but I’m pretty sure no real words came out.

They helped me to my feet, and my legs started to solidify under me while, at the same time, cursing me for weighing so much. A few people applauded, but more jeered as Rowan and Beto half dragged me back to the dressing room. Aisling Collins did not run up, throw her arms around me, and kiss me on the cheek for my bravery.

In the locker room, I sat on a bench while Rowan went for paper towels for my bloody nose, which felt like it weighed about sixty pounds all by itself.

“I’m sorry about that, man,” Beto said. “You were supposed to pull back.”

“Is it broken?” I asked, gingerly touching the bridge of my nose.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You’ll be okay.”

“What happened?” It was Melody. She and Miss Chastity stared at me. The other fighters, including a puffy-faced Dancin’ Dan, stood behind them.

“An accident,” Beto told her.

“Some accident,” she said.

Rowan came back with the paper towels and dabbed the blood away from my face. “Here,” he said, giving me a towel. “Keep your head tilted back.”

My mind was clear now, but my whole face hurt. Melody stood on the bench next to me and brushed my hair back from my forehead. “Stupid uppity-ups,” she said. “You’re better than them any day.”

The bleeding had slowed to a trickle by the time Nash showed up and handed over my shirt and glasses. Brett and Aisling came with him. “I guess we’re even,” he said. “Let me get you a bottle of beer. That should help.”

I took the towel away from my face. “I don’t need anything from you.”

And he goes, “What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me? Are you kidding? You set me up. You had this whole thing planned all along.”

And he’s like, “How could I know it would end up like this? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of hard-boiled investigator guy, fighting off thugs with switchblades and everything. I didn’t know you’d turn out to be such a wimp.”

I looked at Brett. “And you—I’ll bet you knew about this too. Both of you going around acting like you’re my friends, but you’re just a couple of phonies.”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy the steak and the limo ride?”

“Maybe I did, but that’s when I thought we were friends. But we never were, not even for a second. All you are is a user. You might think that makes you better than us, but you’re wrong.”

“That’s right,” said Chastity. “You aren’t any better than us.”

“Oh, shut up,” Nash told her. “You got paid.”

“Don’t tell her to shut up,” said Dancin’ Dan from over my shoulder. “She can talk anytime she wants to.”

“Yeah,” confirmed Robo-Troy. “Anytime she wants to.”

“You suck,” added Melody.

Nash backed up, obviously uncomfortable with the bristling attitude in the room. “Wow, talk about ingratitude,” he said. “We didn’t do anything but hire you out of the kindness of our hearts. And on top of that, do you know where this city would be without my dad and his business and all the jobs it provides? Right in the toilet.”

“You know what?” Beto said. “We don’t care who your dad is because he’s probably a pendejo just like you.”

“Just like you,” Dancin’ Dan agreed.

“Anyway,” Beto went on. “I don’t care about your daddy’s money. What’d you ever do but sit back and sponge off him? All you had to do was get born. That’s no kind of accomplishment to brag about.”

And Nash’s like, “That’s big talk coming from an illegal. You better make sure your papers are in order.”

Beto didn’t respond to him, though. “Put your shirt on, Dylan,” he told me. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait for me,” Melody said. “I’ve had enough of this scene for the night.”

Dancin’ Dan and Robo-Troy chimed in that they were ready to go too.

As we started out of the room, Nash is like, “Go on, slink out, Dylan. Go pretend you’re somebody because you’re nobody to any of us.”

The words had barely dropped out of his mouth when Beto’s fist launched. This time it didn’t fly in slow motion either. It landed square against Nash’s jaw, dropping him to the floor on his butt. The look on his face told me he’d never imagined a world where something like this could happen to someone like him.

“See you later, douche bag,” said Melody as we walked around him.

In the main room, everyone stared at us. They didn’t look the same as they had before. They were much smaller.

CHAPTER 37

Beto drove a sleek green lowrider with awesome chrome rims, which I decided was way cooler than any limo or Lexus or Mercedes. Melody rode up front with Beto, and I squeezed into the back with Robo-Troy and Dancin’ Dan, who had already become the best of buddies despite their fifteen-minute rumble. In fact, we all became instant friends. When we got tired of talking about how funny it was to see Nash land on his butt, the conversation switched to how each of us ended up at Gangland in the first place.

Dancin’ Dan’s story was loaded with a bombshell. Originally, Nash hadn’t wanted to hire him as a fighter at all. The two met through one of Dan’s buddies, a guy named Dickie, who had rumbled for Nash before, also losing to Robo-Troy.