A man yelled gleefully, and the cry galvanized the witnesses. As if the crowd was one body, it surged to the edge of the boardwalk, sandwiching Naomi and Rebecca between smelly, cheering men practically quivering with excitement. The marshal muttered, “Uh, oh,” and pressed his way through the spectators, emerging onto the front row. Through the shifting bodies, Rebecca caught a flash of red and blue silk and what looked like gyrating ostrich feathers. She heard several slaps accompanied by astonishingly skilled swearing, grunts and screams akin to animal sounds. She’d never heard women carry-on so and kept thinking it couldn’t be what it sounded like. Curious, she, Naomi and Emilio wiggled their way to the front as well and beheld an eye-gouging, hair-pulling, fingernail-breaking catfight that would have rivaled mountain lions battling to the death. Two women, both barely dressed, circled each other warily. Blue and pink silk dresses hung in shreds from their bodies, feathers poked wildly from disheveled red and blond hair, blood dribbled from noses and mouths.
