Finch bristles. “How dare you! Who says my Maria would agree to more?”
They turn to Maria, smoking in the passageway, watching them on the platform. She shrugs. “A girl doesn’t know what she will and won’t agree to until she is asked. How much more are we talking about here, Jules?” She gleams.
They turn their gazes to Julian, standing near her, hands in his pockets. “This is a gentlemen’s fight,” he says evenly. “We’re not haggling at a wench auction. I get to take a lovely young lady to the pictures. That’s it.”
The young lady blooms under his watery gaze.
“It’s too much,” Finch says. “It’s not right.”
“Poor Swedish is getting the sharp end of the stick either way,” says Wild.
“Shut up, Wild!” Mia exclaims. “Or I’ll show you the sharp end of the stick.”
“Finch, you gotta beat him,” Duncan says, shaking Finch like a cotton doll. “You simply gotta. I want the Savoy so bad. Mia, go to the lobby and tell them the fight will start in an hour. It’ll give us time to train your boyfriend. Come on, Finch, this is for all the marbles. Let’s practice.”
“Why?” Finch says. “He’s not practicing.”
“Thank Christ. You stand a chance of beating him then.”
* * *
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mia yells. “What a treat we have for you tonight! Finally, we have a real fight for your viewing and listening pleasure! Yes, it’s true! So get comfortable, get a drink, and take your seats on the luxurious concrete floor! To start, I will—” Before she can continue, Wild interrupts her by jumping on stage.
Throwing his arm around her, he yells, “Ladies and gents, usually it’s either blood or beer here—but tonight, in the Underground, we’re proud to offer you blood and beer!” The men in the audience roar. “For the main event, we have the middleweight world championship bout between Finch Smith, the undisputed champion of the world, and Julian ‘The Hammer’ Cruz, his challenger from Scandinavia, a Swedish lord who’s come to take the crown from one of our very own! The fight will last five rounds, two minutes a round, with a two-minute rest in between. Low blows are not allowed, neither is kicking or biting. Otherwise, anything goes! It’s going to be a good one. But first, some light and mostly unintentional comedy from Folgate—I mean, from Maria Delacourt.” He plants a happy kiss on her cheek and jumps off to thunderous noise.
Duncan and Nick move the door and the two-by-fours off to the side. They get four chairs to make the corner posts of a large square space and tie rope around them to mark an almost regulation-size ring, while Wild lays out blankets and pillows around the perimeter.
“Is Finch going to be having a fight or taking a nap?” Julian says, watching Wild.
Wild grabs Julian by his shirt. “Go easy on that poor git, Swedish,” he says. “He’s not batting on a full wicket. Love has made him soft in the head.”
“Not love but pride,” Julian says.
“Same difference. Let him win,” Wild says. “Please. For the Savoy!”
“Have faith in the boxer you trained, Wild,” Julian says. “As for me, what can I say, I’d like to sit next to the girl.”
“You sit next to her every frigging night in the jeep and on the rubble and around the fire! You literally can’t will yourself to leave her side! No wonder Finch is incensed. You have to sit next to her in a chair, too?”
“Not a chair. In a theatre. Like on a date.” Julian smiles.
“Swedish, please.”
“Have faith in your boxer, Wild.”
“Oh, fuck everything,” Wild says.
* * *
They don’t have a bell, but they have a whistle. Mia blows it, shouts Round One, and Finch and Julian begin. They’re dressed in trousers and white tank tops. Julian has taken off his crystal necklace and left his shirt close by so he can dress as soon as the fight is over. He doesn’t mind Mia seeing his muscled body, but he’d prefer her not to catch sight of his armful of tattoos, not to see her own name engraved on his skin. Last time with Shae it spelled nothing but trouble.
When the men stand next to each other, it’s obvious that while Finch is taller, Julian is much stronger. Finch is a stalk, and Julian is a fighter. They circle each other. Finch lunges for Julian, goes barreling forward. They dance around for a minute, with Finch flailing his fists and Julian