Together, Travis and Shepley easily paid their rent and bills with the winnings.Īdam brought the bull horn to his mouth once again, and the yelling and movement escalated to a feverish pace. Beginning his sophomore year, Travis was unbeatable. As a freshman, he was rumored to be the most lethal competitor Adam had seen in the three years since creating The Circle. Travis, Shepley’s roommate and cousin, entered his first fight seven months before. Because I ran in somewhat tamer circles, I was surprised to learn of an underground world at Eastern but Shepley knew about it before he had ever enrolled. Each event was held in a different spot, and kept secret until just an hour before the fight. She wouldn’t put me in any danger, but being in a basement with fifty or so drunken college boys intent on bloodshed and capital, I wasn’t exactly confident of our chances to leave unscathed.Īfter America met Shepley at freshman orientation, she frequently accompanied him to the secret fights held in different basements of Eastern University. I promised America that I could handle whatever we happened upon, but at ground zero I felt the urge to grip her toothpick of an arm with both hands. With a pink cashmere cardigan and pearl earrings, I felt like a school marm on the beaches of Normandy.

“Jesus, Adam!” he yelled to the emcee over the noise, clearly disapproving of his friend’s choice of words. If you break these rules, you will get the piss beat out of you and you will be thrown out on your ass without your money! That includes you, ladies! So don’t use your hoes to scam the system, boys!” No touching the fighters, no assistance, no bet switching, and no encroachment of the ring. Betting ends once the opponents are on the floor.

“Welcome to the blood bath! If you are looking for Economics one-‐oh-‐one.you are in the wrong fucking place, my friend! If you seek The Circle, this is Mecca! My name is Adam, I make the rules and I call the fight.

A man stood on a wooden chair, holding a wad of cash in one hand, the horn in the other. The noise startled me, and I jumped in reaction, looking for the source of the blast. The sharp bleating of a bull horn cut through the smoky air.

America grabbed his hand, and then mine as Shepley led us through the sea of people. “Stay close! It’ll get worse once it starts!” Shepley yelled over the noise. Her broad smile gleamed even in the dim light. “Keep your cash in your wallet, Abby!” America called to me. I squeezed through the crowd, following close behind my best friend. Voices blurred as they yelled numbers and names back and forth, and arms flailed about, exchanging money and gestures to communicate over the noise. The stairs were crumbling, the rowdy patrons were shoulder to shoulder, and the air was a medley of sweat, blood and mold. Everything in the room screamed that I didn’t belong.

Beautiful disaster novel