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What a stupid fucking name. It's ridiculous. It's fucking cattle name. You name your cow Bo, or your favourite ox. What person in their right mind would like, no, would ask to be called that? It's fucking stupid.
She hadn't even realized she had said the last bit out loud. "Oi, sweetheart, how about less talking, more punching?" Vex nudges her from outside the ring.
She's moving in circles around her opponent, easily avoiding his punches, but not even trying to hit back. The crowd is getting bored, they didn't pay a hefty entrance fee to watch a tall, blonde girl doing the fucking polka, they came to see the fierce Iron Maiden smashing people's heads in. "C'mon already," she hears Vex shouting, a sentiment echoed by many other voices in the stands.
She takes a deep breath and without even bothering with strategy and tactics, she launches herself at the other fighter and takes him down with three well-coordinated and well placed blows. The crowd starts cheering, but she doesn't wait for the victory to be called, she darts out of the ring and into the back room, slamming the door shut behind her. Vex follows her a few seconds later. He's wearing a fancy brown suit, with new, shiny shoes and a walking stick, she notices.
She can't remember exactly when along the way she picked him up, he was just there one day, collecting bets, helping her in the ring, advising her who to fight. The self-declared impresario was actually called Victor and was born into nobility – the only son of an earl no less, who had been disowned at the tender age of 17 due to his shady connections and the fact that instead of taking employment and making a living and a name for himself, young Victor had stolen the family's silverware on several separate occasions and then lost it all at the tracks.
Despite his pompousness and many flaws of character, he was a good man and Tamsin discovered she liked having him around. They'd even grown into a friendship of sorts. It probably helped that he was cashing 35 per cent of her winnings in what he described as "management costs." She didn't mind though, having somebody in her corner during the fights mattered more than the money.
"Luv, what was that back there? You a'right?" Vex asks, handing her a bottle of wine.
"Mind your fuckin' business, will ya?" she scoffs, taking a swig from the bottle and handing it back.
"In case you forget, darling, you are my fuckin' business. So what got you all worked up, eh?"
She sighs and rolls her eyes and she wishes she could tell him. About Lauren, about how she feels for Lauren, about that fucking Yank. But she can't. He can't know.
"'Snothing, I just don't feel well, must be coming down with a cold or something."
He stares at her for a while, and he knows that she's lying, and she knows he knows, but neither of them says anything. He hands her the bottle again.
Tamsin's had enough of this Bo to last her a lifetime. In the past week, that's all that Lauren's been talking about. For fuck's sake, Tamsin knows the girl's date of birth, her shoe size, her favourite food and book, how she met Charlie Chaplin at a party in New York, how she stands to inherit a fuckin' fortune after her grandparents pass away.
When she goes home in the evening and they're having supper, Lauren talks excitedly about what she and Bo did, or what Bo said and how remarkable it was. They had only met twice in the last week – once for tea and once for lunch, but their outings have apparently left quite an impression on Lauren. Tamsin has never seen her like this before so she worries. She worries that Lauren will lose sight of the bigger picture and will allow herself to fall under the American girl's spell, forgetting all about her medical studies and her purpose. Forgetting about Tamsin. She doesn't say anything because it's not her place. She just waits, patiently, ready to intervene should it become necessary.
"Where does this… Bo live?" she asks, while looking for a clean shirt after Lauren finishes disinfecting and bandaging her wounds.
"Up in Mayfair, Grosvenor Square," Lauren replies simply. "I have the house number, too."
"You fuckin' jokin', right?" Tamsin blurts out. But Lauren looks as serious as ever. "Fuck, that's where all those uptight filthy rich bastards live, Lauren!"
"What are you trying to say, Tamsin? That I'm not good enough, that we're not good enough for them?" Lauren's voice is trembling with fury, and Tamsin doesn't understand why she got so upset.
She closes the distance between them in two strides – for once she's grateful their room is so small – and takes Lauren's hands in her own. "Don't you ever think that, little mouse. You're better than any rich fuck in this whole world. I didn't mean anything by it, it's just that I don't trust them…"
Lauren nods and frowns. "Bo is quite different, Tamsin, you'll see. She does not look rich, she does not act rich either. She says it's her American upbringing, and that money doesn't make who you are."
Once again, Tamsin cringes inside. Lauren's words make her angry – it sounds just like what any rich fucking brat would say. Money doesn't make who you are when you have it, that much is for sure. When you don't though, that's a whole different matter.
She doesn't say anything though. Lauren looks strangely happy, but there is also a sadness in her voice that makes Tamsin wonder. She tilts her head and looks at her for a while then makes one of her usual goofy faces to cheer her little mouse up. She keeps it up for a few seconds and Lauren soon gives in and smiles. "You are incorrigible."
"Aye, I think that should be my name. Could very well be, for all we know," she smiles. She realizes she's still holding Lauren's hands and she drops them a little too abruptly. "I 'ave an idea. What do you say the two of us go scout the place tomorrow morning? Just see what kind of house it is, make sure you know how to get there and such. We wouldn't want you to arrive late for tea now, would we?"
Lauren's expression is one of doubt. "I am not sure this is such a good idea, Tamsin. What if we get seen?"
"So what if we do? We'd be two people walkin' down the street like regular folks. Nothin' wrong with that. Besides, I've always wanted to go to Grosvenor Square and watch all those well-off fat sacks going around in their fancy clothes and posh automobiles. C'mon, it'll be fun," she adds seeing Lauren is still sceptical.
"Fine, I suppose," she eventually agrees.
As it turns out, it was a very bad idea indeed. They don't belong there; that's for sure. As soon as they set foot in the square they're followed by mean, yet curious stares. Everybody's studying them, silently wishing they would just leave already and stop ruining their perfect little world with their presence. They stand out like two huge ink blots on a white sheet of paper.
The house that corresponds to the address Lauren was given is the biggest one on the entire block. They keep a safe distance and study the place, all the people coming and going. Apparently there's no sign of this Bo, because Lauren would have said something. Instead, there is a constant flow of people going in and out of the house, all of them without exception looking better fed, better dressed and generally just better than the two of them.
"Oi, you over there," Tamsin calls a nearby newspaper boy, "com'ere." The boy, he can't be more than 12, and the only one around dressed as poorly as they are, obeys without questions. Tamsin takes out a shilling and hands it to him without a word. His eyes widen in gratitude. "Tha… thank you, ma'am," he stutters excitedly.
She just nods and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me, boy, whose house is this?"
"You honestly don't know?" he scoffs, playing all haughty.
"Don't be a smartass boy, or I'll fu…" She pauses when Lauren clears her throat loudly in warning. "… or I'll give you a beating you'll remember for years, I will," she finishes proudly.
"A'right, a'right, ma'am, was just havin' a little laugh, didn't mean nuthin' by it," he apologizes. "This is ole' man McCorrigan's house," he says and pauses to gauge the effect of his words. Tamsin looks at him puzzled wondering why she should be impressed, but Lauren has already taken a step backwards, wide-eyed. "Fitzpatrick McCorrigan, member of parliament?" the boy asks but the name still doesn't ring any bells. "He's the richest bastard in Parliament, I swear on me ma! Old family, came down here from Scotland 'undreds of years ago, got rich doing all sorts of entrepreneurial activities," he adds smugly, being very careful how he pronounces the last couple of words.
Tamsin nods, pensively. Lauren looks sadder than ever. "I 'eard there's a young girl livin' with the old man now, 'sthat true?" she asks the newspaper boy, who's already getting restless.
"Aye, ma'am, that would be his granddaughter, Bo Dennis. Dennis after her father, see," he adds matter-of-factly, with a bright smile on his face. "She's a real beauty that one, an' she's been awfully nice with the maids an' cooks an' everybody round the house, I hear them talkin' sometimes. She even gave me a couple of shillings the other day!" he says, grinning and stretching out his hand. Tamsin promptly slaps the back of his head and shoos him away.
"Oi, whas that for?" he asks, moving away.
"Don't ever swear on yer ma again, boy, or I'll break yer legs!" she yells after him, smirking.
The smirk gets wiped from her lips as soon as she turns to look at Lauren, who is on the verge of bursting into tears.
"Oh, what on earth was I thinking?" she mutters. "This is no place for the likes of me, what am I even doing here? Let's go, Tamsin, please," she says, turning away.
"Wait a minute, will ya? What's wrong? You said she doesn't care about these things, Lauren!" For a second, she wishes she could just take Lauren out of there, take her to have some nice little breakfast and a cup of coffee at some fancy little bistro, and just do her best to make her feel better. She's better off without this girl, she thinks and tries to convince herself, but she can't. Not when she sees Lauren's expression of utter sadness and despair.
"I can't, Tamsin, how could I go in there and not make a fool out of myself? Look at how they're dressed! Even their cook is wearing a fancier dress than any of mine…"
"Hey, what's with this nonsense? Don't you go comparing yourself with any of those fuckin' pricks in their fancy clothing. You're bloody Dr. Lauren Lewis, a'right? You're better than any of them and don't you ever fuckin' let anybody tell you otherwise!"
Lauren has stopped and is staring at Tamsin, a sad smile still on her face. Eventually she nods and turns to leave again. She looks miserable and Tamsin can't stand this. If there's one thing Tamsin is ready to go to hell and back for, several times, for the rest of her life even, that is seeing Lauren happy.
"Oi, where you going?" she runs after Lauren, who stops and gives her a quizzical look. "We gonna go buy you something fancy to wear, I ain't letting you go dressed like this. You'll embarrass the family," she says smugly and Lauren bursts into laughter.
"You should tell her," the Chinese girl says slowly, pausing between the words, as if she wants to taste them before letting them out into the world. She breathes in the opium smoke and holds it inside for a while before exhaling.
"I can't," Tamsin says simply. "Ill fuckin' ruin everything if I do."
"Perhaps," the girl replies, rolling her "r". "Or maybe she shares your feelings and she is too afraid to admit it." She puts down the pipe and moves back to bed, lying down next to Tamsin, who is still smoking her cigarette.
"You've no idea what you're talking about, Mei," she scoffs. "She's better than this. She has a bright future ahead, I will not ruin it for her. She's had enough hardship to go through without me piling anymore on top."
She's staring at the stained crimson ceiling, and the strange shadow the yellow dragon carving up on the bedpost is throwing against the red background.
Mei is looking at her intensely, although her vision is already blurry because of the drug. Then in one fluid movement, the girl positions herself on top of Tamsin, intentionally pushing down hard against her pelvis and studying her response.
"Fuck, Mei," Tamsin moans. Then a slick smile appears at the corner of her mouth, as her left hand moves swiftly to the girl's hip, while the other one puts out her smoke.
"I do believe that this is what you are here for, Tami," the Chinese girl says, beginning to ride her slowly, and rubbing her wet sex against Tamsin's.
Mei has always called her Tami because it sounded more Chinese, she said. Tamsin doesn't mind, she's used to being called by different names by now. The Chinese girl is called Mei Hua, which means 'beautiful flower,' as Tamsin found out later on.
"Do all Chinese names mean something?" she asked at the time.
"Only those that matter," came Mei Hua's prompt response.
She is not sure how she feels about Mei. Somewhere deep down she considers the girl the only real friend she has, the only person who knows almost everything about her. It doesn't matter that she has to pay for the girl's company whenever she wants to see her. There's a special kind of fulfilment when opening up to a prostitute, a feeling of satisfaction Tamsin begrudgingly came to accept over the past few months since she's started seeing the Chinese girl more or less regularly.
It all started, how else, with Vex, who insisted on celebrating one of her most difficult victories at a special place he knew. She followed him reluctantly to a dimly lit pub full of shady characters enjoying one drink too many, and wondered what was so special about that place that they had to walk 3 miles to get there. In the middle of fucking December.
Vex ignored the patrons and led them straight to the back, where he knocked four times on a massive wooden door with a small opening at face level. An old-looking Asian man looked through the opening, staring menacingly, but his expression immediately changed into a wide smile when recognizing Vex.
The door creaked open, revealing a short Chinese man, wearing an elegant tuxedo. Still smiling, the man started speaking his gibberish tongue, urging them to come in.
"Huānyíng, huānyíng, Wēixu Xiānshēng! Qĭng jìn!"
"Fēi cháng gǎn xiè, Zhāng Xiānshēng. Nín hǎo ma?" Vex replied promptly.
"Tài hǎo, xiè xie nín. Péngyou, péngyou shì shéi?" the man asked staring at Tamsin
"A, zhè shì wǒ hén hăo de péngyou, míngzi shì Tamsin. Nĭ zhīdao, Tamsin shì tiĕchŭnǚ a!" Vex grinned back and placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. Tamsin did not understand a word of it but she did figure out that Vex was trying to gain passage for both. So when she heard her name spoken, she just nodded slightly in the direction of the old man.
"Shì a?" the man exclaimed finally, looking satisfied with the explanation. "Please come in, any friend of Mr. Vex is always welcome here," he eventually said in English. He moved aside to let them pass and then pulled the heavy door behind them closed again.
"Fuck, you can speak Chinese?" Tamsin asked once they were inside. "What did you tell him?"
"Aye, luv, was there for a couple of years as a kid, with me family. Amazing country, that is!" he replied merrily, ignoring her other question. "Come, let's get that pretty head of yours a good decent pint of something in honour of today's victory!"
He led her to a table at the back of the room, which was considerably smaller than the main pub, but the clientele was more select as well. These were no ordinary pub goers looking to get drunk on the cheapest ale, Tamsin realized as she looked around. These were people of decent upbringing who were coming here to explore their deepest desires, sexual or of a different nature.
She stared at the patrons for a while until Vex came back with their drinks – a bottle of whiskey and two pints of beer. There were both men and women there, some drinking, some smoking, some kissing other people. There were Asian and Caucasian women and men alike, scantily dressed, walking around the tables, to entertain the guests, and that's when it dawned on Tamsin where they were.
"This a fuckin' whorehouse?" she asked after downing a couple of whiskey glasses and half a beer.
Vex, in a more advanced state of inebriation, grinned back. "I much prefer the term house of ill repute, it has a certain panache, don't you think?" He started laughing and Tamsin joined him, wondering how come she hadn't realized until now what a stupid sounding word 'panache' was.
A young man wearing only a pair of white, tight trousers, stopped right next to their table and without warning leaned in to give Vex a long, passionate kiss. Tamsin was quite embarrassed and averted her gaze. But when the young man tried to kiss her too, she literally squirmed in her seat, doing her best to avoid the boy's lips. She muttered a quick apology and turned her eyes to the whiskey glass, feeling more embarrassed than she had ever remembered feeling.
Vex studied the episode curiously but didn't say a word. He just pulled the boy closer to him and whispered something in his ear, Tamsin was afraid to ask what. All she knew was that she was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second.
The young man hurried off without a word, and Vex stood up and raised his glass to hold a toast. "Oi, you little fucks! May I 'ave your attention? Here's to the fucking Iron Maiden, you honourable skanks! Here's to the fastest, fiercest fighter of all fucking times, the undefeatable Iron Bloody Fucking Maiden!" he shouted, pointing towards her.
"Won't ya sit the fuck down?" she hissed at him. "You're making a fool of yerself. And me!" she added but Vex was ignoring her completely and was still clapping his hands in her honour. Most of the patrons just gave him a curious look and soon returned to their drinks or companions, but some started clapping along to mock him.
She was this close to punching him, when she felt a warm, soft hand on her fist, keeping it gently but firmly in place. "Don't," a voice said and it was one of the most beautiful, melodious voices Tamsin had ever heard. She turned her head and stared into the dark eyes of a Chinese girl, who looked at her intently, a warm smile on her lips. She returned the smile without even realizing, and before she could figure out what was going on, the girl leaned forward and kisses her deeply, slowly forcing her lips apart with her tongue. Tamsin was in shock, and when the girl stopped kissing her she wasn't even sure if what was happening was real or just an alcohol-induced hallucination. "Come with me," the girl said, pulling her gently by the hand. Completely mesmerized, Tamsin followed her, not before noticing Vex looking at them with a strange smile on his face, and nodding in approval.
That was the first time Tamsin was with another woman. The first time she was intimate with anyone else, as a matter of fact. The physical closeness confounded her at first: she was used to physicality in a fight, to the contact of two angry bodies locked in a battle to overcome each other, but she was not used to this.
The girl led her into a smaller room upstairs, the same room she was in now, with stained crimson walls and an imposing bed that looked out of place there, contrasting heavily with the rest of the shabby décor. She sat down on the bed simply because there wasn't any other place to sit – the only chair in the room had a small leather case on it, and Tamsin looked curiously how the girl took out a long pipe, poured some powder inside it and then lit it by the candle on the table. She breathed in the smoke and let it out slowly, allowing it to swirl around her, creating strange dancing shapes in the air. The display was truly hypnotic and Tamsin couldn't take her eyes off it. The girl poured two glasses of whiskey and came to sit on the bed, then took one of Tamsin's hands in hers and ran her fingers gently over the bruised knuckles. "So you are the famous Tiĕchŭnǚ," she smiled. That word again, Tamsin wondered what it meant. "The Iron Maiden," the Chinese girl explained and chuckled. "I always imagined you were… older."
Tamsin swallowed hard and tried to pull her hand away. This was wrong. What the fuck was she doing here? She should have been home already, Lauren would be worried about her, wondering where she was.
"I… I can't," she started and tried to get up, but the girl did not let go that easily.
"Shhhh," she said, putting a finger over Tamsin's lips. "Please stay. It would be a shame if you left. There is so much waste in this world, don't you think? Why waste the little time we have together?" she whispered, while caressing Tamsin's cheek and running her fingers through her messy hair. "I like it," she decided all of a sudden, smiling contentedly. "You have beautiful hair," she added, and for the second time that night, she brought her lips against Tamsin's and kissed her slowly and softly, taking her time, waiting for the other woman to respond.
Tamsin sighed and eventually kissed back, while her hands landed awkwardly on the girl's waist and just remained there, heavy and still. "I'm sorry," she muttered in apology, keeping her eyes closed.
"You worry too much. I don't care who you dream of when I touch you," the Chinese girl replied, moving her hands underneath Tamsin's shirt, gently grazing her skin with her fingernails. Tamsin gasped at the contact and tightened her grip of the girl's waist.
"Close your eyes and imagine this is your woman, touching you where you long to be touched… in the most sacred… and secret parts of your body…" she whispered, while taking off Tamsin's shirt and placing featherweight kisses on every inch of skin she exposed.
"How did..." Tamsin started but was again cut off when the girl kissed her one more time – this time more forcibly, and even biting her lower lip, prodding her to respond.
"Shhhh," she said again, tilting her head backwards and studying Tamsin for a couple of seconds. "We are the unwanted, this is our destiny. Just close your eyes and think I am her," she insisted, and this time Tamsin complied. It was wrong, and the smells and touches were unfamiliar, but she pretended. Whenever she was kissed, she imagined Lauren's beautiful mouth over her own. When her hands touched the warm, soft skin, she imagined it was Lauren's. When her fingers dipped into the other woman's wetness, Tamsin was convinced she was losing her mind, as images of what it would be like to have Lauren writhing under her touch flashed before her eyes.
She almost started crying after she came, her whole body trembling violently. The Chinese girl held her tight, whispering soothing words in her unknown language.
A loud knock on the door startles both of them. They'd been sitting in silence for a while, passing the bottle of wine from one to another, neither of them actually feeling like talking. The person who knocked doesn't wait to be asked in and practically kicks the door open. It's a very tall man of muscular build, dressed in a sharp suit that somehow makes him look even bigger and more threatening. He's shaved bald and has some strange tattoos on his neck. Tamsin can't help but wonder what it would take to bring such a formidable opponent down in the ring.
"Oi, who the fuck allowed you back' ere," Vex asks angrily, which is quite brave of him, given that he's half the other man's size.
"Please pardon the intrusion," the man speaks in a surprisingly elegant accent. "I needed to discuss with Miss… Lewis here of a matter of the utmost urgency," he said amiably.
"Just Tamsin will do," she replied cautiously. After they left the orphanage, she took Lauren's last name since she didn't have one of her own. "What is this urgent matter that you wish to discuss, if I may ask?" she says, matching the stranger's elegant tone and style of speech. Vex looks at her as if she's grown a second head all of a sudden.
The man looks from her to Vex and back, not sure if he should speak in the presence of another person. Eventually he decides against it and takes out a business card. "My employer should like a word in private, about the possibility of commissioning your services to ensure her family's security. I'm afraid this is all I am at liberty to discuss at the moment. Please be at this address tomorrow at noon," he says, handing the card to Tamsin. The card is in French, the name and address written in gold letters against a creamy white background, with an intricate family crest printed discretely at the top. Evony Fleurette Marquise. Another stuck-up, rich dame who's looking for her next charity case? Yet the man's offer intrigues her, especially the mention of this being a security position.
"Thank you. Please tell your employer that I am quite grateful for the proposition, and I shall call on her at this address tomorrow at noon," she says.
"Very well," the man nods. "Good day," he adds and strolls out of the room.
Vex is still staring at her, mouth agape in surprise.
"Wha'?" she asks.
"What the hell was that?" he practically shouts. "Don't tell me you're actually considering the fuckin' offer!" He sounds desperate and Tamsin wonders what will happen to him if she stops fighting. As resourceful as he is, he's come to rely on her for a steady income over the last few months, just as she's counting on him whenever she's in the ring - that he will stop her from killing the other fighters, that he will stop the other fighters from killing her, if it ever comes to that.
She just shrugs in response to his question, and he doesn't press on. But the truth is she is considering it. For the first time in what feels like eternity, she wonders what it would be like to stop fighting. To stop showing up home bloodied and bruised in the evening. By the time she leaves the warehouse, she has half a mind to take up this Madam Marquise's offer no matter what. Not for her, but for Lauren.
The Chinese dialogue reads something like this (I might have messed the tones, it's been forever since I wrote any pinyin):
"Welcome, welcome, Mr. Weixu (Vex). Please come in!"
"Thank you very much, Mr. Zhang. How are you?"
"Very well, thank you. Your friend, who is your friend?"
"Oh, this is my very good friend, her name is Tamsin. You know, Tamsin's the Iron Maiden!"
"Really?"
My Chinese friends out there, sorry if I ruined your beautiful language.
