saw a fight poster for your last fight,” she says with a cruel laugh, just to drive the stake in a little harder. “Your opponent was from your old gym in Baltimore, remember? Your face was plastered all over your old stomping grounds down here. That’s how easy it was to follow you to Philly and your new gym.” "What do you want?" I repeat. "I don't have anything for you. I'm just as stuck in the dumps as you are. It wouldn't be worth it to come up here." "Bullshit," she snarls. "You've got a nice, cushy job now. I bet that club pays well. It has to, if you've got your own apartment in a good
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