Down and Out

This is the Jamie that Declan was telling me about?
No. Oh, God, please no.
My stomach churns as a drum beats in my chest, the noise steadily increasing until it drowns out the sounds of the crowded room, its deafening blast echoing in my ears. I struggle to breathe as my throat tightens, my head growing dizzy as I glance back and forth at them, oblivious to my distress as they yell at each other.
Just like that, this beautifully foreign feeling I have for Declan is tainted with something ugly and painful.
“First you ignore my calls, then you show up tonight with some skank?” Jamie shrieks, giving me the evil eye.
The whole thing makes me laugh. My sheer dumb luck. Her obvious boob job, and the duck lips she has from one too many collagen injections. The fact that Declan f*cked her. I’m laughing at it all.
It’s official. God hates me.
My hysterical laughter has them looking at me like I’ve gone crazy, but I don’t care. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter to no one in particular.
Jamie frowns as her gaze locks on me and I see it—that dreaded moment of recognition. “Holy shit,” she says, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “If it isn’t little orphan Annie.”
Declan’s eyes dart back and forth between Jamie and I, widening as realization flashes in them. “Oh, shit.”
Jamie tsks at him. “I thought you had better taste than that, babe. I never would’ve pegged you for a dumpster diver—”
Before I realize I’m even doing it, my fist smashes into her nose and she stumbles back, slipping off the ledge of the pool and falling into the water with a big splash. A chorus of gasps erupt around us as everyone stops and stares at the commotion we’ve caused.
“Jesus Christ,” Declan breathes next to me.
Jamie flails in the water, pushing her mop of bleached hair out of the way as blood gushes out of her nose, briefly turning the water in front of her pink before dissolving. The water makes her makeup run, and she covers her bloodied face, screaming, “You f*cking broke my nose!”
“Buy yourself a new one. It’ll go great with those flotation devices you bought when your tits never came in.”
Declan snickers beside me, but tries to cover it up with a cough.
Two girls I hadn’t noticed before rush to the ladder sticking out of the deep end as Jamie tries to climb out of the pool, looking like a wet cat. Her friend grabs a nearby towel and hands it to her. Jamie takes it and says, “Call the cops,” while glaring at me. “That bitch just assaulted me.”
Rage overtakes me and I automatically take a step in her direction, more than ready to finish what I started. Strong hands wrap around my biceps, holding me back as I glare daggers at Jamie. Her smug face only incites my wrath and I grit my teeth and struggle against Declan, making him grip me tighter and press his hard chest into my back.
“Easy there, Kitten,” he murmurs into my ear. “You drew enough blood, okay? Time to retract your claws.”
Jamie’s face turns from triumph to something bitter as she watches Declan whispering in my ear. She looks away, the hurt on her face evident.
I should be happy that I finally gave her a modicum of revenge, but I’m not. It doesn’t taste as sweet as I thought it would. In fact, it tastes kinda shitty.
Movement catches my eye, and I see the MC walk in, flanked with security.
Oh, hell, I’m getting kicked out.
Declan loosens his grip but doesn’t fully let me go as they veer off and head for Jamie, stopping in front of her and her two friends.
“Jimmy, I’m glad you’re here,” Jamie says, looking over his shoulder at me smugly. “I want that girl arrested for assault. Look what she did to me,” she says, pointing to the bloody towel pressed to her face.
“Miss Beckett, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you and your friends to leave.”
Jamie scoffs and frowns, looking at her friends like she misheard him. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been harassing my guests,” he says, turning and gesturing to Declan and I. “So I suggest you leave, before I have security escort you out.”
She drops the towel and yells, “Are you serious? She hit me! I have a room full of witnesses.”
Jamie and I both look around the quiet room at the stunned faces.
The MC—Jimmy, I guess—turns and addresses the room. “Did anybody see Miss Beckett get hit?”
Everyone looks around at each other, slowly shaking their heads. What the hell? Are we in the Twilight Zone, or something? Why is everybody lying?
Jamie’s mouth snaps shut as security begins to usher her out. “Wait until my father hears about this,” she huffs, jerking out of their grip and storming off.
Security follows her, probably to make sure she actually leaves, and Jimmy casually trails behind them, calling out, “Your father works for people like me, Miss Beckett. So please, by all means, tell him I said hi.”
Declan releases me as everyone eventually goes back to what they were doing, but the whole mood of the room has shifted. I still feel people’s eyes on me even though the show’s over, and I don’t like it. Their whispers and judgmental looks are stifling, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe.
I have to get out of here.
Grabbing my heels off the lounge chair I’d set them on, I hightail it out of the sunroom, ignoring Declan’s pleas for me to stop. My body’s shaking as a million different feelings race through me. Raw, undiluted anger. Confusion. But most of all, hurt.
I can’t believe he actually slept with her.
Her, of all people.
It’s making me sick the longer it sinks in, and I can’t stop picturing him touching her and kissing her. I’m jealous and disgusted. It feels like a betrayal, and that’s illogical and unfair to him, I know. But that’s what it feels like. It’s ugly, and painful, and suffocating.
He catches up to me on the loft overlooking the first floor, placing himself in front of me and blocking my path. “Savannah, what’s—”
“Just take me home, okay?” I finally give up trying to get past him and cross my arms, keeping my eyes on the crowd of dancing bodies on the floor below. At least the party wasn’t ruined for everyone. Just me and about twenty other people.
“Hey.” Declan’s voice is soft as he reaches out and tries to touch me, but I violently shake him off.
“Don’t.”
He nods and looks down, appearing crushed. “I’ll bring the car around.”
A sharp ache slices through me as I watch him descend the grand staircase, and then it’s just me, alone on the loft while the music drifts up and envelops me. I feel myself begin to shut down, and I focus on the beat, letting it wipe out my thoughts as I turn comfortably numb.
Why does this hurt? People aren’t supposed to be able to hurt me.

I don’t know how long I stay zoned out on that loft before I make my way downstairs. And now, as I wait in the foyer of the penthouse for the stupid elevator to reach the top floor, I still don’t feel ready to face him.
“That’s one helluva right hook you’ve got.”
My heart jumps to my throat as I look over and see Jimmy standing beside me, with a bemused expression. I’ve been so in my head that I didn’t realize I’m not alone.
“Where’d you learn to hit like that?”
Wait, he saw me hit her?
I blink and glance around the otherwise empty foyer, wondering what the hell his angle is. He’s clearly not just an MC, based on that display of power earlier. If I had to guess, I’d say this is the guy running the show.
Shrugging, I look back at the gold elevator doors, keeping an eye on his distorted reflection. “I’m sorry I ruined your party.”
He scoffs. “Ruined? Please. I’ve been wanting to kick her scrawny, entitled ass out for weeks. You did me a favor. Well, I guess technically Declan did me a favor by coming to his senses and ditching that train wreck, but it was still fun to watch.”
I look over at him and force a smile. He’s trying to be nice, but it’s still a fresh wound and I don’t particularly want to talk about it. Especially with someone I don’t know.
He holds out his hand. “I’m Jimmy, by the way.”
Let me rephrase that: I don’t want to talk about it with Jimmy.
I glance at his outstretched hand and reluctantly shake it. “Savannah.”
He tilts his head, and instead of being offended by my cool reception to his small talk, he seems . . . amused. “Do you know who I am, Savannah?”
My eyes narrow on him. “I have an idea.” Where he’s going with it, though, I have no freaking clue.
He chuckles and folds his hands in front of him. “I can tell you’re a smart girl, Savannah. I like that in my employees.”
“Your employees?” Since when do I work for this yahoo?
There’s a beat of silence as he studies me, smiling politely, before he says, “I’m starting a female chapter of the The Pit, and I’d like you to consider coming onboard.”
Whoa, what? “You want me to fight?” I splutter, torn between laughing and staring at him in shock.
His reserved smile never falters. “I do. You’ve got great form, and you’re pretty to boot. With the proper training, you could be a fan favorite, easy.” He says it so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.
“Before you say no, let me assure you that it won’t be as . . . lively as the men’s chapter.”
“You mean brutal and bloody.”
“Yes,” he says, seemingly pleased by my response. “Although I can’t guarantee there won’t be any blood. This is a contact sport, after all, but that’s not what people want to see from a women’s match. They want to see two attractive women get in the ring and tussle. Think more wrestling and less face-bashing.”
“And what are these women going to be wearing while ‘tussling?’”
He shrugs. “Sports bra. Shorts. Nothing hyper-sexualized.”
“So there’s no Jell-O involved?”
“No,” he says, laughing. “No Jell-O, no oil, no nothing.”
I bite my lip and nod. “And what about Declan? Does he know you’re asking me to join?”
He tilts his head and studies me. It’s weird and intimidating, and he knows it. “No,” he finally says.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, ignoring the pain in the balls of my feet from my heels. “What’s the catch?”
“The ‘catch’ is that you might get your ass kicked, but if you’re good, you’ll move up in ranking, which means you’ll earn more.” He pulls a business card out of the breast pocket of his suit and hands it to me. “Entry-level fighters make five thousand a match, and I’ll even provide you with a trainer to start with. Think about it.”
Declan wasn’t kidding. Jimmy pays his employees very well.
I read the glossy, embossed letters before glancing back up.
“Time is of the essence, Savannah. I have the first fight scheduled in six weeks, so if you decide to do this, you need to start training immediately.”
The elevator door dings and slides open. I tuck the card into my palm and nod to him. “Thank you. I’ll consider it.”
Stepping onto the elevator, I push the button for the lobby and the doors close. I’m too tired to consider any more “arrangements” right now. I just want to go to sleep and forget this day ever happened.