The Neighbour ✔️

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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C L A R I S S A

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As I place my keys into my door I look over at Artie who's just leaving his flat. I smile, "good luck with your fight."

He smiles back and drops his duffel bag by his door and approaches me, placing his hands on both sides of my face and pulling me forward, kissing my lips. "Thanks, Baby." He replies in a low tone.

"Send me a text when it's over so I know you're okay?"

His brows furrow. "It'll be midnight before I finish."

"I know, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep knowing your fighting someone, somewhere."

"I'll be fine." He chuckles lightly and leans forward, kissing me again. "I've got your kisses to bring me luck."

I smile back as he steps away and picks up his duffel bag. "See ya," he waves.

"See you later." I reply, waiting for him to leave.

Fuck. He left earlier than I thought he was going to. I quickly head into my flat, abandoning the supplies I had just bought at the grocery shop by the kitchen door and get changed into something casual. I head to his door.

I'm no rebel, nor do I break the law, but I need the address of where he fights. I mean, is it breaking in if technically he gave me his key? I open his door and head into the kitchen, thinking over where I could possibly search for his location. I am determined to see just how brutal his fights are. It's like I need to know. If I was brave enough, I'd message Eddie but he's probably avoiding the hell out me, which I'm thankful for. Plus I don't want him to think it to be an invitation for him to continue contact with me.

I search his calendar - nothing - and then head to his bedroom. I trip over his trousers messily laid on the floor and realise I've kicked a ball of paper across his carpet.

I wonder.

I gingerly pick it up and unscrew the ball.

Artie vs Dickie
Monday 11th July, 7pm
Old Petal Warehouse (prev. Apache Warehouse)

I search the warehouse name and find it's location. It's an abandoned warehouse - of course it is - that lost business in 2008.

I look down at my outfit, my black adidas trainers, leggings and big white sweatshirt. I'm going to melt in the heat surely. I glance into Artie's mirror and realise I look too... like me. I pull my hair up into a bun and pull Artie's baseball cap over the top. He won't mind me wearing it I bet.

I leave the flat, locking up as I go and book an Uber to drop me down the road so I can walk in.

As I arrive, I see the crowd is bigger than I thought. I was expecting maybe a few gatherers, but as Artie did say, he makes up to £5,000 a fight so I imagine a lot of bets need to be placed in that case. People gather around the circle in the thousands. They're talking, laughing, enjoying company of those around them. I hear different accents which makes me realise just how far people must travel to watch him fight. I look around and catch eyes with an older ginger man in his 40s, who's making his way through the crowd. He smiles at me and looks at me like I'm lost.