Lacuna

Chapter 2

Numbness. That's all I feel. Numbness and power, with every surge of adrenaline in my veins. With an angry growl, he charges at me. I am lighter and faster, so I dodge his blow, cracking down with my elbow at the base of his back. The man curses as he tumbles down. The cheers and taunts from the crowd only fuel my aggression. I'm in my zone, no pain, no tears, no limits, and certainly no stopping. The man is back up and launches a blow to my face. I manage to block his fist and twist his arm behind him. Fight smart, then hard, that's my rule. His own momentum sends him into one of the heavy poles in the corner of the ring. He hits his head and staggers back up. 

His first mistake was going easy on me, just because I'm a woman.  We face up again, hands up. He tries to roundhouse kick me and I catch his leg, using my own weight to drag him down. We fall, me landing on top of him. Now its time to fight hard. I land punch after punch to his face, once to his stomach to double him over, my fists pummeling his face until its nothing but red and swollen flesh. The arena is silent, and I rise, wiping blood from my mouth. He got me a few times, but with the adrenaline and my emotional disconnection, I cant feel the pain. The bell rings, and I zone out. The cheers of the crowd seem so distant, and someone, the referee, raises my arm signifying my victory. I spit blood onto the mat. Another win, another paycheck. I come back to as my agent, Charlie, puts a towel around my neck and guides me out if the ring and into the dressing room. I plop down onto the bench, the fight catching up with me as my adrenaline leaves.

"Hell..." I grimace at a sharp pain in my side. There's definitely a bruise. 

"Great job today, Nov." He cheers. I nod, but don't say anything. 

My body hurts. A small price to pay for payment. Charlie takes his leave, knowing that I need a moment alone. Whenever a fight is over, I get deep into my thoughts, and I always wonder how I got here. Should I have gone to college? No. I remember my talk with Martin that day. This is my choice, and I take pride in it, even though beating strangers to a pulp isn't exactly an ideal profession for a 19 year old artist. I shall stand to look into the mirror. God I look terrible. Not as bad as my opponents, but still pretty bad. The rule is that they can't scar my face, its what attracts the crowds when I fight. It attracts men and women alike, those who cat-call and those who need hope. Charlie says I'm a symbol. I say that its a load of crap. I fight men,  I get paid, I do it again. That's it. The people who come and watch me are sick, and the thought of what I'm doing makes me want to throw up. So I don't think about it. I take a swig of water and strip out of my sweat and blood ridden clothes to get into the shower. Tonight is one of those nights. I stand under the hot water, letting it was the filth of tonight away as the dull booming of music rages on above me. Seems like a great party. I wouldn't know anything about that. I step out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror again. I wonder what Martin would say if he saw me now.
I exit the room, trying to get upstairs and find Charlie to collect my paycheck and get out of here as soon as possible. I hate clubs. They are too loud and there are too many people. I almost got us banned last month because some guy groped me. He didn't know who I was and what I do, but still, that's no excuse. I punched him dead in the face and almost started a bar fight. Charlie and the bouncers stepped in before I could do any real damage, which I have to admit I was a little disappointed. I could've done that bastard in, but I think he learned his lesson.
The music around me blares louder than my thoughts, making my anxiety rise. I hop up to the bar and sit on one of the stools. Two-face, the bartender, turns around and grins at me. He is a large, middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard,  and a serious frown. His arms and chest are massive, and I'm still surprised that he isn't one of the bouncers. He is scary enough to be one, and to him, that's a compliment. He suffered some serious damage to the left side of his face from a fire a few years back. He says it doesn't bother him. His little girl adores him and that is good enough for him.

"Now look here Novey, just cause you fight here don't mean I can bum you any drinks. You still underage." He jokes. I pretend to be disappointing.

"I'm just..." 

"Looking for Charlie? He's in the back." He juts a thumb behind him. I internally groan. I hate it back there. Its a private room filled with dangerous looking men and gang members. Its also where the strippers are. Charlie knows how I feel about it, and yet, here we are. Again.

" I can go get him for you, doll." T.F. offers. I decline.

"No, I wanna hit him when I find him." I announce. T.F. laughs.

"I wish my daughter were as tough as you. Let her in." He calls to yet another one of the nameless bouncers at the door. They let me through.
I am almost overpowered by the stench of weed and cigarette smoke mixed with booze and alcohol. The music is louder here, and I push past several lap dancers and drunk men with money sticking out of their clothes. One of the bouncers, Clyde, walks with me. Men try to call me over and I ignore them. 

"Charlie, I swear I'm going to kill you..." I mutter.

 I make it past the stage, and my eyes search the booths in the back. I still don't see him, which means he's on the second floor. I found the steps, Clyde knocking away any unwanted hands that try to grab at me. I finally spot Charlie, talking to a man in the farthest booth. The lights cast shadows over their faces, but I can tell that several of the party is drunk.  I walk over to the table, but don't say anything. I don't judge Charlie by the company he keeps, I just don't want to be involved, and I have learned that if he is here, he is talking to someone shady. He looks up, laughing, and his face falls, as if he forgot about me. He did. Again. He stands, guiding me over to the other man.

"This is the star." He shouts over the music, though I barely hear him. The man grins, a crooked half smile that looks deadly, and kisses my hand.

"Pleasure." He remarks. He reminds me of a venomous snake, ready to strike. He has black hair neatly combed and amber eyes. I cast a glance at Charlie. He bids goodbye to the men at the table and we exit quickly.
I burst out of the room, almost wanting to cough. Fresh air fills my lungs, and I breath easier. I round on Charlie immediately, punching him in the arm.

"Okay, first of all, OW. Second of all, I was only going to be a few minutes." 

I'm not buying it, and he must be able to tell by the look on my face. He sighs.

"Lets go."

Charlie drops me off at my apartment, handing me a check on my way out. Its double what I was promised. 

"What..." I begin. He shrugs.

"They like you a lot. And the guy I was talking to? His name is Brogen Cromwell. He wants to sponsor you." He states proudly. I look at him dubiously.

"Why? I'm a small time fighter, and I don't need this much from it, I'm doing just fine with my art." I frown. Charlie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Please never say that to me or anyone else again. Who you are at night and who you are during the day..." 

"Are two separate people I know." I finish. He smiles, patting my cheek.

"Good. And its not just for you. I may be your agent, but I specialize in other areas as well." He gestures to my door. "Now go on. Get some rest. You've earned it."
I don't argue or reply, but climb out of the car and watch as he drives off. 

"What the hell was that supposed to mean?" I say to myself, and trudge up to my door. My body is going to feel like trash tomorrow.  As I lay in bed, I almost laugh at Charlies words. Get some rest? Yeah, right. I haven't rested in nearly 10 years.