“Fight?”
“Boss Smythe holds boxing matches down in the warehouse. He’s got a prize for whoever knocks out his man, Camden Cobra. Ain’t all that interesting if you ask me.” She trailed a finger along Hettie’s shoulder. “I ain’t ever had anyone young and sweet as you. You dipped your wick in the wax yet?”
Hettie jerked away. “My pa’ll be here any minute.” She tried to force as much warning into her tone, but it came out a squeak.
The woman only smiled more broadly and leaned forward, displaying her ample bosom. “How about a Missy twofer special? I’ll do your pa, and you for half price. Hell, I’d give you a free one if it weren’t for hard times. I’m awful smitten by you, and I bet you could use a little comfort.” She caressed Hettie’s cheek, tracing a finger along the edge of the bandage.
