People flock to the events, at more than 130 impromptu venues across the land. Over 500,000 paid to watch last year. Four people had been killed in that period, adds to the attraction, come see some poor schmuck get his or hers, incite the fighters to extreme behaviour. A contestant, before entering the ring, signs a waiver, acknowledging the possibility of serious injury or death.
Possibility.
Paramedics are on hand but no doctors, are you kidding?
The referees are not required to prove experience in the craft.
Dade spent three days holed up with Sherry. Booze, sex, dope, and Tammy. He never even got a chance to be vaguely homicidal. She’d a villa near a motel called the Lazy 8. He asked,
“How come you live in a house, there’s a dude ranch in like, spitting distance?”
She’d given him a look, part amusement, part irked, said,
“A girl needs privacy.”
Which he thought was rich, she hadn’t worn a stitch for three days. Now she was pulling on track gear and he asked,
“You jog?”
Answered out of the corner of her mouth, a cig going on the other end, said,
“Yeah, right.”
Then added,
“I look like I’m from where, stupid town?”
He was getting dangerously low on speed, the ants gnawing at his nerve ends, his teeth grinding, his left eye giving an involuntarily twitch, she asked,
“You like to fight?”
She kept doing that, coming at him from left field. He was up, pacing, said,
“I’ve had a few,”
Yeah, like duh.
And he near sang,
“But then again, too few too.”
She ordered,
“Get your ride, we’re going to a rumble.”
Gave him directions to an area outside the city limits. He’d Tammy on the speakers, with “Please Come to Boston”. When he saw the line of cars, pickups, Harleys, he thought it was a concert but said nothing. Parked next to a couple of hogs, glanced at her, a wild excitement in her eyes. Hundreds of people, electricity in the air. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him through and he saw a makeshift ring, two guys walloping the crap out of each other, he said,
“Boxing.”
A touch of spittle on her lip, she gasped,
“Way more than that.”
The bout ended when one of the guys went down. The ring was cleared and the referee shouted,
“Next up is Kate the Kat, all the way from Noo Orleans.”
A black girl, early twenties, in shorts, T, and sneakers, hopped into the ring. She was fit, athletic, looked like she worked out. A lot. Sherry asked,
“Like that?”
“She’s fit.”
Sherry sniggered, said,
“I’m so going to whup her black ass.”
Before he could squeal,
“What?”
The referee asked who was willing to step to the plate, get themselves fifty bucks, Sherry’s hand was waving and to the cheers of the crowd, she climbed into the ring. Dade shook his head, she was an itsy bitsy thing, sure she had spunk but the nigger would chew her ass. Sherry was pulling the gloves on and to the roars of the crowd, refused the protective helmet. The referee blew a whistle and they went at it. Any other time, Dade would have got off on chicks mixing it. But this was a Tammy acolyte, not too many no more. The ones who’d held the torch longest were beginning to desert to Dolly Parton.
How sad was that?
Sherry was taking a beating. Once, twice, the black girl caught her smack in the kisser. A hillbilly beside Dade, nudged him in the ribs, said,
“Yer gal, she’s getting thrashed.”
You poked Dade in the ribs, you better be carrying, but he was too distracted. A guy was making book at the side, all the green going on the black chick, Dade put a twenty on her his own self, might as well get something for the trip.
Ouch, Sherry took a sucker to the gut, staggered, the crowd chanted,
“Give it up, girl.”
Dade didn’t think she’d last the round. The black was grinning, easiest fifty she’d ever earn plus she got to kick white ass. The bell went, Sherry retreated to her corner, Dade fought his way through, said,
“Babe, give it up, she’s killing you.”
And Sherry smiled, blood pouring from her mouth, gasped,
“You think so, huh?”
Then added,
“Put two large on me, to win.”
He did, reluctantly, and the bookie gave him a look of pity.
ROUND 2
The black girl did a little dance, then a tap routine in the centre of the ring, the crowd loving it. Sherry looked at Dade, said,
“Bring it on, bitch.”
Made her way into the centre, swaying slightly, as if she was about to drop, the black girl put her hands on her lips, sneered,
“Forgot your lip gloss, mama?”
And was lifted clear off her feet by a left hook from Sherry, the clean crunch of her jaw breaking, a collective gasp from the crowd, especially Dade.
That’s all she wrote.
Flat on her back, a moan trying to form. Sherry stood over her, planted a dainty foot on her belly, looked up, said,
“White power.”
The crowd erupted, wild screaming, roars of approval, the referee pulled Sherry off, her mouth streaming blood, counted out the black, Sherry demanded,
“Where’s my fifty bucks?”
Coming out of the ring, the hillbilly passed her a bottle of shine, she put it on its head, drank deep, then shouted,
“Nigrah in her place.”
More acclaim, she took another swig then hurled the shine over the crowd, blessing them in hooch and bigotry. Dade collected his winnings, the bookie, stunned, went,
“What a pistol.”
Dade, grin ear to ear, pulled her into his vehicle. Could feel the adrenaline burning off her, she said,
“Let’s fuck.”
They did.
Then to Denny’s, ordered steaks and grits, he’d brought along a batch of Coors. Sherry still in her bloodied gear, the waitress staring wide eyed. Dade raised his bottle, said,
“You had me going there.”
His prick still ached from the sex, Sherry stabbed at her split lip, said,
“I had help.”
“What?”
She opened her right hand, a chunk of lead in there. Dade whistled, acknowledged,
“Babe, you’ve got you some moves.”
Later, in the villa, downing shots of bourbon, Sherry, her mouth coming off his dick, asked,
“Think you could waste a dude for me?”
He shrugged, asked,
“What he’d do?”
“Gut shot my old man.”
Dade drained his glass, asked,
“You miss him, huh, your old man?”
Her mouth turned down, she spat,
“He was a cocksucker.”
Then she hit the shower, singing, if he wasn’t mistaken,
“Blanket on the Ground.”
If he wasn’t hitting a speed burn he’d have joined her, his body was going into tremens, she came out, buck naked, looked at him, asked,
“You hurtin’, baby?”
“What?”
“Got yourself a dose of the crank blues, a little short maybe?”
Yet again she was out of left field, he decided to fess up, said,
“Yeah, some, my um, meds are a little low, not like I’m some kind of lame addict bu you know.”
Sherry had pulled on a black halter top, not as tight as skin but akin to strangulation, then sat on the bed to pull on tight white jeans, finally she stood, cocked a hip, asked,
“What you need, fellah? I got, uppers, downers, sidewinders, ludes, crystal, jitter bugs, black beauties, white juice...”
And stopped.
He didn’t know if she was yanking his chain, had never heard of some of these, asked,
“You yanking my chain?
She checked her boobs in the mirror, juggled around to get them up and frisky, said,