“Our people can’t afford what your lot pay for dinner, Miss Tosky. You’re losing me.”
“What about a hundred dollars a plate? Enough to pay for the food, and have a little leftover on the side. We come up with a way to raise money. We invite the fighters, but we also invite those with a little cash. Everyone gets to mingle, we pilfer from the rich folks, and then we—”
“Line Monaco’s pockets?” Evie shakes her head. “Strike two.”
“No! I said this isn’t a Monaco thing. We give the money back to the fighters.”
Mac’s brows come up. “To the fighters? How do you mean?”
“What if we pad those purses with a little extra?” Maddi prompts. “Or maybe we can offer a best and fairest type thing. Maybe a guy fought really well. Maybe he lost, but he put in a really good effing effort.”
Everyone’s eyes go to Mac.
“Oh, so a pity prize?” he accuses. “A participation trophy? Get the fuck outta here.”
“I like it,” Evie murmurs. She turns away from Mac’s bitter scowl and looks to Maddi. “We could award a cash prize to the crowd favorite. The best fight, the most spirited fighter or whatever.”
“Do not award that shit to me,” Mac growls. “I will be offended if you give it to me.”
Evie rolls her eyes. “Motion to disqualify Mac from ever receiving the participation trophy, all those in favor, say aye.”
As a group – including Maddi and Mac – in monotone, we say “Aye.”
“Good, now that’s off the table, would you care to rejoin this discussion, whiner?”
Evie tosses Maddi’s menu at him, and snorts out a laugh when he bats it away.
“So you think we could raise enough money to come up with something substantial without dipping into existing coffers?” she asks.
“Sure.” Maddi finds her stride and smiles. “We raised more than twenty million dollars at my last event.”
“The fuck, you what?” Katrina stops by our table with a tray of milkshakes. “Twenty million… rupees?”
“Nope, green money. Fifteen million went to the artist, five went to Monaco. A hundred thousand slid into my Christmas bonus, and hell, I have some fancy shoes picked out for when that money hits my bank on December twenty-fifth.”
“But… twenty million.” Katrina folds a little lower and looks into Maddi’s eyes. “You say it like it’s not a big deal. You say it like it’s twenty bucks.”
Maddi shrugs, which only sends Katrina back to stand tall.
“You and I are not from the same people, young lady. I think you’re sweet as pie, and pretty to boot. But we are not the same people.”
Shaking her head, Katrina distributes shakes – one for Mac, too – and walks away without another word except, perhaps, a couple of mutters about money.
Dragging her shake forward, Maddi pulls the straw between her teeth and smiles. “Stop looking at me like that. That money isn’t for me, it’s not for my bank. I’m just the minion in the middle. But my point is, I think we could do something similar for Stacked Deck. We could raise a few dollars for this new prize, and—”
Mac raises his hand. “Motion to re-include Mac in the twenty-million-dollar dignity exchange award. All those in favor, please say aye.”
When no one does, he turns to Bean. “Say ‘aye,’ woman!”
“Nope, Mac’s out.” Evie declares. “Teach him a lesson for being so damn proud.” She looks to Maddi. “Your thing included rich old people and art they really wanted. We have neither.”
“My job is to find and deliver the people with money. The thing we’ll sell… well, we can brainstorm that.”
“I’ll sell my body,” Mac throws down. “For twenty million dollars, I will for sure cheat on my girl. Then I’ll buy her back with my twenty million fucking dollars.”
“You’re an asshole!” Bean slams her elbow into his ribs and folds him forward with a gasp. “I will sell my boyfriend. But there’s a no-returns policy. I’m done with his whining ass anyway.”
“You lie.” He pulls her into a tight hug and smothers the side of her face with kisses.
She tries her damnedest to retain her crankiness, but she cracks within seconds, and snuggles in like we all knew she would.
“You love me, Lucy. And you know I love the shit out of you.”
“So… this is happening?” Maddi looks around our small group. “I could put it together pretty quickly. Maybe host the dinner not so far out from the tournament. A last hurrah before fight night.”
“Why not sooner?” I ask. “Do we really wanna be hosting a dinner on top of organizing a tournament and training for said tournament all in the same month? Woman, there’s only so much we can do.”
“It has to be December.” Maddi looks to Evie. “Your wedding is this month. We’re not hijacking the month for this. Plus, I’ll be organizing the dinner. You do you, train, do whatever it is you do leading in—”
“So, like, gym selfies while he flexes his muscles?” Evie taunts. She looks directly into my eyes. “He doesn’t do shit all else. He’s a freeloader, turns up to fight, then leaves again.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m not ashamed. Y’all are jealous you can’t be as effortlessly lazy as me. It’s a gift, really.”
“I will organize the event,” Maddi rolls straight over my words. “All you have to do is show up. It’ll be black-tie, so you’ll need to organize outfits, but since your wedding is near, I vote you just keep those suits. The girls just need new dresses. Also, I’ll need your input while we think of ways to raise money. If the first year goes well, we can make it an annual thing,” she continues. “Every year, Stacked Deck’s season will open with this dinner. Everyone will know to expect it, and instead of your fighters being in town for a week, maybe they’ll be here for two. That means more money will be pumped into the town, creating more profit for the little businesses.”
“More money in Monaco’s pockets?” Evie lifts a daring brow.
Maddi shakes her head. “Car parts aren’t usually an impulse buy, plus, we’re already national. We’re in every car parts store, every mechanic’s garage, every gas station and whatever other businesses are relevant. Bringing people here won’t change our bottom line. But it will benefit small business. And that’s good for all of us.”
“A black-tie dinner…” Evie considers.
She sits back when Katrina arrives with our food. Six plates, six sets of silverware that go completely ignored by everyone but Maddi. We each pick up our burgers and take a bite, but Maddi unwraps her silverware and slowly, meticulously, begins cutting it in half.
Evie watches her with a lifted brow and a full mouth. Bean does the same.
Ben leans forward with a scowl. “What in the Mac-Ain’t-Getting-That-Twenty-Mil are you doing, Tosky? Are we already wearing suits?”
Maddi’s eyes whip up to find everyone watching her hands. Heat rushes to her cheeks, and I swear, her eyes turn glassy. “I…” Her gaze flits from one person to the next. “What?”