Hidden Depths

Chapter 9 - Destructive Debut

Fearing another loss, Rashid hesitated over his selection.

'What are the rules for men?' he asked.

Nikolai looked back at him with a wouldn't you like to know grin, before pressing his earpiece again and leaping to his feet.

'Two men in a ring, one tall and muscular, the other small and wiry. In most walks of life, you'd back the big one every time, but down here in The Wonderlust Club, we are far from run of the mill. Down here, our boys practise mixed martial arts, down here, our boys fight with bare knuckles and down here, no holds are barred!'

The tone in the room was changing. Whereas before the audience had been laughing and leering, most were now less jovial and more business-like. Some, more experienced guests, were repeatedly changing their choice in order to raise their bet, while others were watching their table's central screen like hawks, ready to swoop in and spike one of their rivals.

Despite Nikolai's hint that the match would be close, Rashid could see from the table's central screen that the majority of the room was backing the bigger man. Rash thought about whether to stick with green as Layla seemed to have done, or to switch to put his money on the bigger fighter in red. Undecided, he resolved to wait and have a look at them both before making his decision.

He didn't have to wait long. Nikolai was still on his feet and ensuring that the momentum continued to build.

'In red, one hundred and eighty centimetres tall and weighing in at ninety kilograms of pure power, the host turned hard man, the meat from America, the ladies favourite...Bro-deee.'

The curtains, from where Layla had made her earlier appearance, were opened to reveal a medium height man who was obviously no stranger to the gym. He was tanned, toned, had a highly styled haircut and a winning smile. It was Beatrix's turn now to be an enthusiastic supporter, and Rashid felt a pang of jealousy as Layla joined her in a groupie-like display of admiration for the greased-panther of a man.

Nikolai continued over the cheers, whistles and applause. 'In green, one hundred and sixty centimetres tall and sixty-five kilograms of tempered steel, he's gory, he's gritty, he's grievous - he's Gaz-za.'

Without waiting for the curtains to open, Gazza burst out and lifted his arms to point a fist at each side of the room. With wild eyes and dancing feet, he sneered at the hosts, making no effort to hide his disdain for them. The hosts reciprocated with silence or, at most, polite clapping. Many of the guests, however, were far more appreciative and, looking at the table's central display, Rashid noticed that the balance of bets was becoming more even.

Despite the fact that Rashid would have quite liked to see this vicious looking teen beaten by Brodie, he knew a winner when he saw one. Rash looked over at Layla and although it was clear that she wasn't enamoured with Gazza, he noted that she stuck with green as well.

'You're not backing that horrible little man, are you?' Beatrix asked, looking at Layla's selection with indignation.

'I'm betting on who I think will win, not who I like best, Trixy. My heart's with Brodie, but my money's with Gazza.'

'Philistine,' Beatrix spat, with theatrical disgust.

The two men were in the ring now, and while Brodie was standing stiffly in one corner, Gazza was leaning back on the ropes in the other, staring at his opponent and looking as if he was casually assessing Brodie's weaknesses. Judging by the buzz in the room, and the activity on the tables' centre screens, the betting and table spiking was continuing apace. Brodie was returning Gazza's stare and began flexing his considerable muscles, a move that seemed to impress the audience more than it intimidated the smaller fighter.