The door creaked open and slammed shut behind Wang as he stepped into the apartment, exhaustion dragging behind him like a steel chain. His shoulders ached, his knuckles were swollen, and the stale smell of sweat, smoke, and cheap booze still clung to his clothes. The overhead light flickered once before holding steady, casting the same sickly yellow hue across the chipped floorboards and faded walls.
Cass was on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, wearing nothing but an old tank top and army shorts, her blonde hair tied up messily. A half-smoked cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth, and a fat stack of crumpled bills sat on her lap. She was counting them slowly, humming some off-key tune with a smirk playing at her lips.
Wang blinked. "Well damn. Someone's in a good fuckin' mood."
Cass looked up, grinning around the cigarette. "Look who finally wandered in. Thought Big Chungus was gonna drag you to his sleazy fuck-den for good."
Wang chuckled tiredly and dropped his jacket on the back of the chair. "He tried. Offered me a contract."
Cass arched a brow. "No shit?"
Wang nodded, stretching his neck with a grunt. "Rocky negotiated it down. Got me a decent cut. Still kinda feel like I sold part of my soul."
Cass snorted and flicked ash into the tray beside her. "Baby, your soul left the building the moment you signed up to beat the shit out of strangers for pocket change and glory."
He walked toward the kitchenette, poured a glass of tap water that looked only semi-questionable, and gulped it down. "Fair enough."
Then he pointed to the wad of bills in her lap. "So what's all that? You rob a slaver caravan or something?"
Cass grinned and fanned the stack like it was a winning hand at poker. "Got it thanks to you, pretty boy."
Wang blinked. "Me?"
She nodded. "Dropped by the pits today. Saw your name on the roster. Figured, what the hell—threw down some cash."
Wang leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow. "How much?"
"Five hundred," Cass said casually, plucking the cigarette from her lips. "Odds were nice and juicy. Tripled it."
Wang whistled. "You bet five hundred? You trust me that much?"
Cass gave a half-shrug, half-smirk. "I trust results. And I've seen you train. Hell, I was the one who dragged your sorry ass to Rocky in the first place, remember?"
Wang grinned. "Guess that makes you my talent scout."
"Damn right," she said, biting the filter and tucking her legs under her. "Was gonna stick around after the fight, come give you a pat on the back. Maybe a beer. But then I saw you getting hauled off by a couple of Chungus's meathead bouncers."
"Yeah," Wang muttered, flopping into the armchair opposite her. "He took me and Rocky into the VIP lounge. Offered me drinks, girls, and an offer I couldn't quite walk away from."
Cass rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. That fat bastard smells money from a mile away. And right now, you're reekin' of it."
Wang looked at her more closely. "You left right after?"
"Didn't want to get caught up in the post-fight dick-measuring contest," she said with a shrug. "Crowd was getting rowdy, someone started a knife fight by the betting table. Figured I'd cash out and bounce before someone bled on my boots."
Wang laughed. "Probably smarter than me."
Cass nodded toward the stack of bills. "Smarter and richer, at least for tonight."
He leaned back and let his head rest against the wall. "Kinda wish you'd stayed."
She glanced at him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said. "Would've been nice to see a familiar face. After the fight, when they dragged me back there… everything kinda went fast. Lights, contracts, hookers laughing too loud. Felt like the whole world was moving and I wasn't."
Cass studied him for a moment, then stubbed out her cigarette in the tray.
"Don't get soft on me now," she said. "You asked for this ride. You think knocking guys out in a ring doesn't come with strings?"
Wang chuckled. "I was hoping for a few less gold chains and coke addicts."
She snorted. "It's Big Chungus's world, baby. We're just bleeding in it."
They sat in silence for a moment.
The hum of the fridge kicked in. Somewhere outside, a dog barked and didn't stop.
Then Cass leaned forward and scooped up her winnings, slapping the bills down on the coffee table.
"Drinks on me tomorrow," she said. "You earned it."
Wang raised a tired eyebrow. "You sure you don't want to go bet it all on the next fight?"
Cass grinned wickedly. "Nah. You've already made me enough for one week. Let someone else get their nose broken."
She stood and stretched, her tank riding up just enough to show a flash of skin and an old tattoo above her hip—some half-faded skull-and-wings design. Wang didn't say anything, but he definitely noticed.
Cass turned back toward her room, but paused in the doorway.
"Oh, and Wang?"
He looked up.
"Next time you knock some fucker out, try not to look so surprised about it," she smirked. "You're a killer now. Act like it."
She disappeared down the hall, door creaking shut behind her.
Wang stared at the ceiling for a while, letting her words sink in.
Killer, huh?
Maybe she was right.
But something told him the fights ahead weren't gonna be as simple as swinging fists and dodging kicks.
The underworld was watching now.
And the price of winning was about to get a whole lot steeper.
Q: Have you ever betted money in professional sports?