As she led him toward the cage, Stryker leaped to the ground. The microphone cord came down after him like long black rope. When he landed on the ground, his spurs jangled. They jangled some more as he stepped up to the volunteer.
Stryker said into the mike, “AND YOUR NAME IS?”
“WALLACE, SIR.”
Vivian skidded the fingernails of one hand down his spine. He squirmed a little and smiled.
People in the audience laughed.
“CHANCE WALLACE,” the man said.
“CHANCE, IS IT? WELL, DO YOU THINK YOU STAND A CHANCE AGAINST VALERIA?”
“YES, SIR!”
Vivian patted his rear end through the tight seat of his jeans.
“GOOD LUCK TO YOU.”
“THANK YOU, SIR.”
Stryker stepped away from him and swung open the door of the cage.
Valeria continued to stand motionless just past the foot of her coffin, her back to the door, the cape wrapped around her body.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ... WE WILL LEAVE THIS DOOR WIDE OPEN SO THAT THE VIC ... THE VOLUNTEER... WILL BE ABLE TO MAKE A QUICK ESCAPE IF THE NEED SHOULD ARISE.” He nodded at Chance. “ARE YOU READY?” he asked.
“MAY I ASK A QUESTION, SIR?” Chance asked into the mike.
“FIRE AWAY.”
“WHAT ARE THE RULES, SIR?”
“YOU DON’T HAVE A WEAPON, DO YOU?”
“NO, SIR.”
“THEN FEEL FREE TO DO WHATEVER YOU DEEM NECESSARY IN ORDER TO PREVENT VALERIA FROM SUCKING YOUR BLOOD. LAST FIVE MINUTES IN THE CAGE WITH HER AND YOU WIN FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. ARE YOU READY?”
“YES, SIR!”
Stryker gestured for Chance to enter the cage.
Chance climbed a couple of wooden stairs and stepped through the doorway.
Stryker removed a timepiece from a pocket of his leather pants. From where I sat, it looked similar to the stopwatch that always dangled around the neck of my high school track coach. Also like my track coach, he wore a silver whistle around his neck. He glanced at the stopwatch, then spoke into his microphone. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!”
Chance moved forward, eyes on Valeria. He walked slowly, hunkered low but keeping his head up, his arms open and his knees bent like a wrestler approaching his opponent.
Valeria still stood motionless, her back to him.
With one foot, Chance shoved the coffin out of his way. Another couple of strides took him within reach of Valeria. He halted.
The audience watched in utter silence. All I could really hear were the sounds of the wind.
I don’t know why, but it struck me just then that somewhere in the audience were the two degenerates who had tried to take Slim—the Cadillac twins. They might be sitting directly behind me ... or in the stands on the other side of the arena ... or anywhere.
Peering across the arena, I started to look for them.
And missed Valeria’s first move. As gasps exploded from the audience, I jerked my eyes back to the cage.
Already, Chance was draped from head to waist by the black shroud of Valeria’s cape. While he struggled to get rid of it, she twirled away and raised both her arms in triumph, her spurs ringing out with each stride. She looked glorious, her raven hair blowing, her skin golden under the stadium lights, her red leather outfit gleaming.
Chance flung the cape aside. The wind caught it, carried it across the cage and pinned it to the bars.
Facing Valeria, he smiled. Then he shook his bead and said something, but I couldn’t hear what.
They started circling each other.
Chance might’ve been happy just to circle her for whatever was left of the five minutes. Plenty of us in the audience might’ve gone along with it, too. If Lee’s reaction meant anything, the handsome and shirtless Marine was a real treat for the gals to watch. And every guy in the audience could’ve sat there all night watching Valeria. She would’ve been fine to watch if she were simply standing still. In motion, though, she was spectacular. The way the muscles moved under the smooth skin of her thighs and calves, the way we kept getting different views of her leather-harnessed breasts, and how they wobbled and shook.
She was a wonder to behold.
But Chance would be winning five hundred dollars in the next couple of minutes unless she did more than circle and prance and look gorgeous.
She had to know it, too.
We all knew it.
What’s she waiting for? I wondered.
Maybe she’s afraid of him. Who wouldn’t be? A Marine, for godsake.
She attacked.
Went straight at him, roaring, leaping, reaching out with both hands.