The Brawler sat on the edge of West End, near the docks, in the bulk of an old warehouse. From the outside it looked nondescript, another building put to use for whatever purpose the owner intended. The bulk of muscle Tony had guarding the place did well to discourage any of the curious. There were many entrances into the building, few of them out in the open where they?d be easily noticed. It wasn?t that Tony wanted to discourage business?he just wanted the right crowd: paying customers. To know that The Brawler existed, to know where it was and how to get in took knowing the right kind of people. Or the wrong king of people, depending on how one looked at it. Candy knew those people.

She fought at the Brawler on Thursday nights, showed up on Friday mornings to collect her share. Tony sat behind the heavy metal desk in his small square office. The green leather of his chair releasing a protest as he shifted his weight, setting down the cash he was counting as reaching for his cigar. Heavyset, his body shaped from years of being the brain behind his brother?s bronze. The cream-yellow button-up, open at the chest, exposed a nest of brown hair and the few gold chains that hung around his neck. He reached the hand holding the cigar up, pulling the rolled sleeve further back and exposing more of the artificially tanned flesh. Candy leaned against the wall as Tony continued in his lecture.

?He out classed them. Wouldn't charge money for something like that here. S'why the show was free. Paying people? They want to see something challenging, something worth parting with their hard won coin for. It was here? I?d have him up against three opponents of equal rank, make a night of it?Brawler Spectacular. Throw in a few side fights for lead up, maybe some qualified girlies in bikinis.?

Her narrowed look encouraged him to change the topic on the merits of a marketable fight night.

?Right. You gain rank again kid?"

?Sapphire.?

He nodded his approval and stuck his cigar back in the ashtray. His mass leaned forward, the chair squeaking its protests once more as he put a stack of cash at the front of the table. Tony moved deliberately, picking up an additional short stack and making sure she was making note of his adding it to her cut.

?Keep it up.?

?Uh huh.?

Leaning forward, Candy claimed the stack and flipped through the bills for a quick visual count. She wasn?t touched by the encouragement, knowing that it stemmed from his personal desire for increased profits. Satisfied with the amount, she tucked the cash into her bag.

?That all, Ton???

He scratched his chin.

?You know this Simon well??

If it had been a cartoon, Candy was pretty sure his eyes would have turned in to dollar signs. She gave him a skeptical look and left the office.