Sidekick Returns Read Online Free PDF Page B

it’s not really a date. But it has the potential to be a kind of a watershed type moment with—’ Lana had already walked away. I felt some man’s breath on the back of my neck, so I hurried to catch up.
    When I reached her shoulder, she asked, ‘How is he?’
    â€˜Who?’ I furrowed my brow. ‘Mr Pushkin?’
    She stopped and spat on the floor again. At least I hoped it landed on the floor. ‘Oh, I get it,’ I said. ‘You do that every time I say Mr P—’ I caught myself just in time and wagged a finger at her. ‘Cool. I guess everybody needs a thing.’
    Silence.
    â€˜Um, he’s fine.’ She resumed walking. ‘He got a new eyeball today. That’s fun.’
    We stopped before two large doors. I looked around the group. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something.
    Lana reached a hand into the deep front pocket of her robe. She pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper. ‘Here,’ she said, passing it to me.
    â€˜Oh, great!’ I gave her a big smile. ‘This was easier than I thought.’
    She rolled her head around on her shoulders, giving off a few snaps.
    â€˜Well, good luck with the fight,’ I said with a chuckle. ‘Hope yours goes better than mine did.’
    I turned to leave just as Lana said, ‘Hit it.’
    The doors banged open and deafening music that could only be described as the love child of death metal and hip-hop, rocked the air.
    The entourage swept forward, carrying me into the throngs of screaming spectators. My eyes darted around the room. It was larger than I thought. Two levels of screaming fans filled the stripped-down auditorium that circled what looked to be an authentic retro wrestling platform. I had known going in that this was an underground fighting hall, but I hadn’t really believed it until this very moment.
    â€˜Um, Lana?’ I shouted. ‘Now that I have the package, I’ll be on my way.’
    An elbow caught me in the ribs.
    â€˜Hey!’ I said to the man beside me. He didn’t meet my angry gaze, which left me glaring at his cauliflower ear.
    â€˜No talking,’ he replied. ‘Look forward. Give scary face.’
    I quickly looked around the entourage. They all had the same deadpan look, as though they couldn’t actually hear the music and screaming that would leave us all deaf by the end of the night. I sighed and caved in to the scary-man peer pressure.
    A moment later, I found myself actually feeling pretty cool. The power of the entourage! I curled my lip a little to show some teeth.
    â€˜Too much,’ the man beside me said, looking at me from the corner of his eye.
    â€˜Right.’ I shut my lips. A few seconds later, we stood at the edge of the ring, and Lana’s music died, replaced by some hard country.
    I wanted to look behind to see Lana’s opponent, but I didn’t want to disappoint the man with the cauliflower ears, so I kept my eyes on the view in front. It was a fairly typical crowd, I guessed, for this type of match. Everyone looked properly rowdy and drunk. But a group on the second level stood out. Actually, it was the man who stood out.
    From this distance, he looked attractive enough … but … but … just no. I could have forgiven the slicked back hair. I could have forgiven the tuxedo with the open dress shirt and the bowtie, unravelled and hanging loose. I maybe could have even forgiven the fact that he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls in shiny jewel-toned dresses that squeezed their bodies like blood-pressure cuffs. And I only could have forgiven him for that because, really, what were those girls thinking, fawning over any man in a horde like that? But what I could not forgive was the aviator sunglasses indoors. Nothing spelled douche like sunglasses inside. Medical conditions excluded.
    I jabbed the big man beside me with my elbow. ‘Who’s that guy?’ He followed my gaze