Clary hated these kinds of places. Weekend after weekend, Jon would drag her to the fights with his two friends and expect her to sit around and wait for him. He threw a fit when she would ask to stay home by herself. "It's too dangerous for you to be home alone, Clare." He would say. Jon meant well, but he was an idiot. Clary had just turned 20 last Tuesday and if she kept working double shifts at the book store then she would have enough money to get her own place—hopefully one closer to her classes that she took every other day at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. Finally, for once she would be able to get away from Jon and the unwanted legacy her father had left behind. She no longer wanted any part of the blood-thirsty sport that had crippled her father and driven her brother mad with desire.
When Valentine Morgenstern, Clary and Jon's father, was in college he was "utterly broke" as he had always stated. One of Valentine's frat buddies had told him that his cousin could make a thousand bucks a night by going to the local bars and fighting in the lower-level boxing tournaments. And that was the start of it all. Night after night Valentine Morgenstern would rally against a new opponent to make a quick buck. His love for the sport grew as did his skill level. Clary could remember all of the stories about him getting invited to box in televised matches and him being in the paper once or twice; he was rather good. However, after a bad match with a few too many blows to the head, Valentine was forced to give up his love of boxing as advised by his physician. Naturally, when his first born child was a son, Valentine attempted to train him up to be the next great boxing champion. Jon however was wretched at fighting, and after several years of failed attempts at making him a great boxer, Clary's father had given up and turned to gambling on matches instead. His gambling problem ultimately was what caused their mother, Jocelyn, to leave him. And every other week when Clary and Jon would live with their father, he would drag them to matches all across the city, keeping them up until the wee hours of the morning to teach them anything and everything about boxing.
Clary could have cared less about all of it; like her mother, art was her true love. But Jon lusted for the fight. It was one of the many traits Valentine Morgenstern had passed down to his first born son, including their strong build, white-blonde hair, and dark eyes.
"Clarissa," her brother snapped, shaking her from her thoughts. Only two people in the world called her Clarissa: one of them was her father, and the other was Jon—but only when he was irritated with her.
"What?" she mumbled, still absentminded.
"I said will you go get me a drink? The next match is about to start and I don't wanna miss it waiting in that line. I've got a lot of money on this one."
"Of course you do." she muttered, snatching the twenty dollar bill from his hand and making her way toward the bar.
Everyone knew the Morgenstern siblings around here. Pandemonium was Jon's go-to place to bet on fights, as was her father's. As Clary walked, she greeted a few of the regulars she knew, waving to some who were too far out of ear-shot. When she finally reached the line for the bar, she pulled out her phone and texted Simon.
Simon had been her best friend since middle school. He attended Carnegie Mellon and had been put into some kind of smart-kid engineering program.
Any chance you'll come save me tonight?
Responding almost immediately, his text read Wish I could but I would rather die.
Clary chuckled to herself at his response. Simon hated the low-life bars and the fighting and the late hours of boring paperwork Jon always had to fill out when he won money. Clary had successfully dragged Simon to exactly two fight nights in high school. At the second one, one of the fighters blew chunks all over the left side of the first row after stepping down from the ring—which just so happened to be where Simon had been walking past to get to Clary. After that, he had vowed to never come with her again.
Stepping up to the bar for her turn to order, she smiled sweetly at Craig, the bartender whom Clary had known ever since she was a kid.
"Jon wants a beer." She stated obviously to him, holding out the crisp twenty. Craig knew she was underage, in fact, all the bartenders knew, but she was a Morgenstern, and the Morgenstern's had special rights around these places.
"You're sure I can't get you anything, Clary?" Craig asked, reaching for a clear, plastic cup to fill for Jon.
Smiling again she answered, "No I'm good. Thanks Craig."
Handing her Jon's beer he said, "Want me to put the change on his tab?"
"That'd be great." And she walked off, back to find her idiot brother.
When she spotted his unmistakable white-blonde hair, she waited a beat. Jon and his two friends Jordan and Sebastian were in an intense discussion, Jordan moving his hands wildly with each word. The clock was counting down the seconds until the visiting opponent would enter the ring, and it was at thirty. She scanned the small crowd that had now formed, gazing at all of the familiar faces, seeing only a few newcomers. One unfamiliar face in particular caught her eye. He was mildly attractive with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, but it wasn't his looks that caught her attention, it was his stance. He was nervous. The man fidgeted with something in between his fingers and stood on his toes every now and then to glance around the room as if he was looking for someone or waiting for something awful to happen. This clearly wasn't his scene. Clary assumed he was waiting for a date.
What a terrible place to bring a date, she thought as she tore her eyes from the scared man and walked back toward Jon.
She placed the beer in his hands without a word and he took it with a nod.
She didn't dare look at Sebastian.
"Hey Clary, how ya been?" Jordan beamed, hugging her tightly. Jordan had been upstate visiting his parents for the past few weeks to celebrate his dad's birthday.
Smiling back meaningfully Clary said, "I'm good. How was your dad's b—"
"Shhhh!" Jon silenced her as the lights flashed and then dimmed to reveal it was time for the first match. All of the boys' attention was now on the far corner entrance of the bar where the visitor was about to come through. Clary rolled her eyes at the blood-thirsty boys she was next to. They were always so caught up in the game.
John McCavvy, a regular fighter at Pandemonium, was already in the ring warming up with his trainer. Jon and John McCavvy had grown close over the past few months and Jon was extremely loyal to him. McCavvy always won her brother some money every time he bet on him and he hoped for the same tonight.
"Let's go McCavvy!" Sebastian screamed over the announcer. Clary flinched at the sound of his voice. She detested Sebastian. Two days ago, Jon had invited all of his closest friends over to their dinky apartment to celebrate the Mayweather fight money Jon had won the day before. Sebastian had, of course, came and, of course, gotten too drunk and, or course, made a pass at Clary. That was Seb's move: get super drunk and hit on a girl he wants to sleep with while making a total ass of himself. It was the fifth time Clary had said no to him and every time, Jon would get mad and forgive him the next day. Clary, however, was never too keen to forgive his constant advances.
The announcer's fuzzy acoustics butchered the name he bellowed over the speakers. Clary had no idea what his name was but as soon as the lights in the corner from which he emerged turned on, she knew she would never forget his face. He had tanned skin and a set jaw that could cut glass. Clary gulped as he began to walk forward, his beefy trainer in tow. He was lean and toned, carved as if he were a statue and his gold eyes didn't move from his opponent's as he made his way to the ring. Golden blonde hair covered his head in slight curls that Clary longed to run her nimble fingers through.
Suddenly, she remembered what she was here for, and—more importantly—what team she was rooting for. Jon needed to win that money tonight and as much as it pained her to think about Golden Boy's pretty face being thumped, she hoped McCavvy would beat him to a pulp.
Hope you enjoyed. Sorry to everyone waiting for me to update Her Half Brother's Douchebag Friend, I promise it's still coming.