strange. All the men had stared at the women. This one didn’t look at either Sara or Mel at all, though, and his attention on her face was fiercely unwavering. He was tall and well made, with golden brown hair pulled severely back from his face into a ponytail at his nape. His eyebrows were elegant wings over narrowed eyes. She returned his stare, searching his darkly tanned face, but she didn’t recognize him. Did she? That full, curved mouth did seem familiar.
The mayor stepped between them, blocking her view. “Here are the rules,” he announced, loudly enough that everyone could hear him plainly. “All five men in the group will enter the ring. They will fight each other until only one man is left standing. A fighter who steps out of the ring or touches the rope is disqualified. If a fighter is down for three consecutive seconds, he is out. Knives are the only weapon allowed. Anything goes. Do you understand?”
The fighters all nodded or muttered agreement.
“All right then.” The mayor blew out a breath. “Ladies, if you would step to the rear to give the audience a clear view of the fighters? Yes, right there. Group Three, move to the left of the stage. Group Two, move over to the right of the stage. Thank you. Group One, you have five minutes to prepare for your fight.”
Ellie stood between Mel and Sara behind the roped-off fighting square. The pain in her toes pulsed faintly in time with her pounding heart. After a few minutes of stretching, the five men in Group One, including Mel’s two brothers-in-law, strutted over to the women. One man paused to reach a hand to touch Ellie’s hair. As she ducked from his hand, she heard a low growl from the right side of the stage. Jelly? No, Jelly was on the left. When she looked that way, she saw the man who had been staring at her earlier glaring murderously at the man who’d tried to touch her.
Who was he?
“Ready, Group One?” the mayor roared to be heard over the increasing noise of the crowd.
The five men ducked under the rope into the square. Two other men, who Ellie guessed were referees, came to stand at opposite corners of the square.
The mayor held up a brass hand bell. “May the best man win!” he shouted, giving the bell a vigorous shake.
The roar of the crowd almost drowned out the hearty clang of the bell. All five of the men leapt at each other. Ellie couldn’t watch. The sight of a Fosse brother biting off the ear of one of the other men was too brutal for her to bear. After that, she kept her eyes on the floor. Mel was clearly watching, though, because Ellie could hear her swearing and muttering her hope that the Fosse brothers would lose.
Sara said, “Those two guys are ganging up on the other three. Is that allowed? Hey, ref!” she shouted. “Is that allowed?”
Apparently it was allowed. The mayor had said anything goes. Ellie peeked up in time to see only three men were left in the fight, and both of the Fosses were attacking the third man. When he went down, bleeding copiously from multiple stab wounds, one of the brothers purposely leaned on the rope to disqualify himself.
“The winner of Group One is Jim Fosse!” bellowed the mayor.
“Fuck!” Mel’s fury was tinged with frantic fear as both brothers converged on her.
The crowd was so loud that if Ellie hadn’t been standing right there she wouldn’t have heard what the brothers said.
“That’s no kind of language for a lady to use,” said one, wiping at the bloody sweat at his hairline. “Of course, we all know you’re not a lady, you murderous bitch.”
The other grabbed one of Mel’s wrists in a tight grip. “Come along now, Mrs. Fosse, we have a suite reserved at the hotel for our wedding night.”
Mel swung her free fist at his face, but the other brother grabbed it. “Feisty? I like it. More fun breaking a feisty filly, right, Jim?”
“Right.”
Sara gave a garbled shout of outrage and jumped on the back of the nearest man, flailing her fists
Learning to Kill: Stories