We reach the front door of the warehouse. The burly bouncer with a neck the size of my thigh winks at Blakely as he accepts our tickets. He overlooks me and talks directly to her. “You want to be a card girl?” he says to her. “We have an opening.”

I might as well not exist. That, or these men don’t find me a challenge. I’m not any sort of imposing obstacle to Blakely.

“I have a job, thanks,” she says. “Just here to enjoy the bouts.”

He grunts and nods at her, apparently approving of her response. Maybe it was a test; has she ever been to a fight before? As I scanned the crowd earlier, I mentally calculated around sixty people. People that are probably return customers.

The bouncer pushes the warehouse door open for us, and there’s two more beefy guys waiting to pat us down before we enter into the dark underbelly of the city. Packing boxes and assembly machines have been cleared to make room for a caged ring in the center with limited standing space surrounding it.

We cluster into a throng as people vie for the best position to view the ring. Since we’re not here to actually watch the fight, I take Blakely’s hand and steer us through the crush of bodies to a less crowded area.

An octagon ring made of wire mesh and chain-link fencing has been erected in the middle of the building. Crowd control barricades surround the arena itself, and gym mats layer the cement floor.

Just like at the nightclub, there’s a VIP section here—a place for the wealthy and elite to view the fight unobstructed.

I nod toward the makeshift bleachers, and Blakely understands my signal. She starts weaving her way there. Once we’re situated right below, she whispers near my ear, “When you spot Ericson, do nothing. Don’t even look.”

I squint at her, as if that will help me decipher her code. “What do I do, then?”

She sweeps the area, then pulls the hoodie of her jacket up to shield her face. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

“Of course.”

The differences between Blakely and I are too many to count. I rarely, if ever, go into a situation without a plan. A carefully constructed and tested plan with contingencies. Blakely shoots from the hip…for lack of a better comparison.

This might be the most dangerous aspect of all about her.

Where I depend on structure and routine, she’s able to improvise. This needs special consideration before I get to the testing phase.

A piercing whine of feedback cuts through the warehouse, quieting the crowd considerably. A man wearing a black suit stands on a crate as he talks into a headpiece microphone. He’s the promoter of tonight’s show.