The Only Way by Jamie Sullivan Read Free Book Online Page B

wondering what it did. The idea of a shower was wonderful, but she didn't know the first thing about making one work.
    "Need help?"
    Hart jumped at the voice, spinning around to find Ruby leaning in the doorway, a smirk on her face.
    "No," Hart denied automatically, crossing her arms over her chest. She was lucky she hadn't undressed yet.
    "Really?" Ruby strolled further into the room. "Then go ahead and turn it on."
    Hart looked back at the knobs and handles and bit her lip, reaching out to turn one.
    Nothing happened.
    Ruby snickered behind her.
    "Fine. I have no idea how it works. We don't have showers at home. Happy?"
    Ruby's smirk softened as she stepped up beside Hart. "Hey. You're not the first kid out of the Gutter we've had here, you know."
    She twisted a different knob knowledgably and the pipes groaned loudly. After a moment, water spurted out of the spigot overhead.
    "It doesn't get super hot, but it's better than nothing," Ruby said.
    Hart stuck her hand out, into the flow of lukewarm water. "You're really lucky," she said quietly. She wondered if Ruby even knew the advantages she had, growing up in the Alley.
    "You were good today," Ruby said. "Maybe you'll be buying your family a shower soon with all your earnings."
    Hart laughed incredulously, but the sound wasn't as bitter as she expected. Maybe one day she actually would.
    She glanced over her shoulder at the other girl. A pink scrape ran through the freckles of Ruby's cheek, courtesy of an ill-placed punch and Hart's thumbnail. Ruby had barely blinked when the cut bled.
    "You planning on watching?" Hart asked when Ruby made no move to leave.
    Ruby laughed, her red curls bouncing with the movement. "You wish." She sauntered out of the room and Hart hurried after her, turning the lock on the door before even thinking about taking off her top.
    The shower was just as amazing as she had imagined it would be.
    *~*~*
    Leo led Hart out into the arena, pushing his way through the gathered crowd. Hart gazed around the room with wide eyes. It was nicer than Farris's place, but not by much. Wooden bleachers lined the walls, wrapped around a good-sized ring. The main doors were across from the gym entrance, wide and impressive-looking. A ticket booth stood on the street, Hart remembered. A small concession stand occupied the space between the main door and the bleachers, a place for the paying customers to get a drink and some popcorn, to complement the bloodshed.
    Hart shuddered, looking away from the jaunty signs advertising the prices of beer and nuts.
    "We've got two fights tonight," Leo called over the din of the crowd filtering in through the front door. "The second one is the one to watch. Experienced fighters. Don't have any idea who's going to take it, myself," he grinned, nodding at the stand next to concessions.
    The bookie.
    Hart dropped her gaze to the sticky floor. People had bet on her father's last fight. People had walked out of that arena with money in their pockets because he had gone down.
    Maybe there had even been betting on more than the winner. Maybe some lucky man had walked away with a fortune because he laid money down on her father's life.
    Hart's stomach turned, the smell of sweat, beer and popcorn just making it worse.
    Leo either didn't notice or pretended not to; he pointed to an empty spot on the bleachers. "Get settled. I do my own announcing," he said ruefully. "But I'll stop by during the fights themselves. Watch the men—watch how they move, how they swing, even how they fall. Got it?"
    Hart nodded, wishing unaccountably that Leo could sit with her for the duration of the fight. She barely knew the man; there was no reason to cling.
    She distracted herself by watching the crowd streaming into the arena. Just like at Farris's place, the audience was mostly men, Alley-born and bred from the looks of them. Working men, with jobs in the plants and factories. A few office-types in slightly nicer clothes, but not many. Working stiffs who