Page 54 of The Shadows Between Us
“All evidence to the contrary,” he says, swaying his mug toward me.
A delicious cloudiness fills my mind, and I find myself offering more smiles to Leandros than I normally would.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask.
“Even if I were, it wouldn’t be to take advantage. Only to help you have a better time. Now come!”
He rises from his seat and grabs one of my hands. I raise my cup to down the rest of its contents, only to find it already empty. How did that happen?
My feet are only slightly unsteady when Leandros and I push into the crowd circling the newest contenders. We manage to squeeze our way to the front. The big brute still remains undefeated.
“Watching is only half the fun!” Leandros shouts to be heard over the shrieks within the room. “Winning is the true sport.”
A young boy no older than twelve runs around the outer circle,carrying a large goblet in front of him. “Place your bets here! Ten to one odds for our newest contender!”
A smaller man with a crooked nose has entered the circle of onlookers. After stripping off his shirt, he windmills his arms and bounces from foot to foot.
Leandros holds out a note. “Ten necos says the brute wins.”
“Not very sporting of you, sir,” the boy says in return, accepting the money and stuffing it into the cup.
“I bet to win.”
“And how about the missus? Will you be placing a bet? Do be sporting and root for the smaller man! He may surprise us yet!”
I survey both contenders carefully, watching their movements. The one with the crooked nose is so much smaller, but he is fresh, where the brute has expended much energy already. Still, the larger man looks as though he could pick up Crooked Nose and bend him in half with little effort.
I’m about to decline the bet, when I notice something.
The brute stretches his arms out in front of him, but as he does so, he winces ever so slightly, before rubbing a hand over his right side.
Bruised ribs, likely. Though he’s winning the matches, he’s taken a few hits. They’re wearing on him.
“Why not?” I say finally. “Shall we say…” I make a show of rummaging through my pockets. “Twenty-five necos on the little man?”
“A fine bet, miss!” the lad says, ripping the money greedily from my fingers and then scampering off quickly, as though afraid I’ll change my mind.
“That was foolish,” Leandros says. “You know the boy is only given scraps of what the owner wins off the bets.”
“I didn’t do it out of charity for the boy. I intend to win.”
His scoff turns into a laugh. “I don’t want you sour for the rest of the night. You’ll blame me for the loss of all your money.”
I roll my eyes, and we turn to watch the match. The contestantsstand up to a line drawn on the floor and wait for a mediator to slap his hand on the ground before the two tear into each other.
Crooked Nose is quick on his feet, sending jabs at the brute before scampering out of reach. The brute watches him carefully, keeping his eyes on his outstretched fists. After a duck, he brings forward a left fist and connects squarely with the smaller man’s chest. He flies back several feet but doesn’t lose his footing.
Crooked Nose cracks his neck to the side before plunging forward, throwing a fist toward the brute’s face. The larger man shifts out of the way and throws a punch to Crooked Nose’s stomach.
He goes down right in front of me.
The floor goes wild. Shouts of “Pontin, Pontin, Pontin” resound, and I assume that must be the brute.
“Get up!” a few voices beg, trying to encourage the young man struggling for breath on the ground.
“Better luck next time,” Leandros says to me with a shrug.
But this isn’t over yet. I step forward, grab Crooked Nose by his sweaty arm, and yank him to his feet. He leans against me as a huge gulp of air finally whistles through his lungs.
