When I Kill You by Michelle Wan Page A

like to think what’s going through her mind.
    The whistle goes.
    We’re both so exhausted we’re happy to buy time, circling on our knees. But we know the fans want action.We crash together with a wet slap. We grapple for maybe fifteen seconds, head-to-head again, until we topple sideways. I grab her around the middle. She’s as slippery as an eel. She breaks out, pivoting fast to come behind me. Her hands clasp together around my neck in what might pass as a chin lock but is an illegal choke hold. She has me tight against her and is really putting pressure on my airway. That’s her objective. I try to drive my chin down, claw to pry her loose.
    She’s strong, and by this time I’m seriously needing oxygen. The more I struggle, the more she has me gasping like a landed fish. The ref sees me fading but does nothing because the crowd is loving it. Before my mind goes dark, I remember an August night two years ago when she had me on the wall. I do the only thing I can to break her grip. I put up one last big show of resistance, pulling away and dragging her behind me, then suddenly give way. It’s only for a second, but the feint is enough to unbalance her. I duck my head fast and roll forward, putting everything I have into flipping her right over me. She goes with my momentum, lands on her back with a satisfying splat that sends mud flying. Now I’m swarming all over her , putting my full weight into sinking the bitch. The crowd is going crazy. I hear Jimmy shouting, “Go, go, go for it, Lava!”
    â€œNIGHT NIGHT, HIPPO!” I roar in Wanda’s face. I get the pin just as the bell clangs.
    * * *
    My victory dance says it all. I pump my arms and circle my fists. I twirl and stomp and punch the air and kick. The fans love it. They’re yelling and whistling and throwing twenty-dollar bills like confetti. The management keeps things at fever pitch by blasting the theme music from Rocky.
    The emcee shouts a lot of hype about Slurry’s and the celebrity match that’ll be coming up later that night. Meantime, hit the bar, friends. Jimmy throws a towel over me. I do a final victory pirouette and head to the showers. No hosing down outside first, like at Al’s. The crowd applauds me as I go. On the way, a man pushes through to catch my attention. He’s short and bald with glasses. At first
    I don’t recognize him. And then I do. It’s Stanley. “Outta the way, pal,” says Jimmy. “The lady’s got to take her beauty bath.”
    â€œWe’re old friends,” says Stanley, trailing me all the way to the dressing room door. I see he’s lost a lot of weight, but he’s still a mouth-breather and a little shit.
    â€œHey,” says Jimmy. “Get lost.”
    â€œShe’ll want to talk to me,” says Stanley. “I found something that belongs to her.”
    An old fear falls over me, heavier and colder than a mudslide. “It’s okay, Jimbo,” I manage to say. “I know him.”
    Jimmy gives me a doubtful look, senses something’s wrong. “You sure, kid?” He backs off slowly down the hall.
    â€œ What ?” I whirl on Stanley, putting into it the venom of a spitting cobra.
    He fakes a deeply hurt look. “Is that a way to greet an old acquaintance? I have a proposition I’m sure will interest you. You see, mother’s operation was successful. She’s a tough old bird. Taking a lot longer to die than I expected. I need cash. And I found Marcia’s video and all the news cuttings she saved about your husband’s death. So is it Sally Washington or Gina Lopez , or do you just go by Lady Lava now ? ” He grins. It’s more a leer. “She was blackmailing you, wasn’t she? That’s why you had to kill her.”
    My brain reels. I feel like Wanda’s slammed me in the gut. “ I had to kill her?” I croak. “It was you ! You’re the one who