Paradise Fought: Abel

by L. B. Dunbar

  I decided I had to see my mother again. It made me rather anxious to go to her place. I didn’t know who would be there. I didn’t know if she would be there. I worried that I’d be abducted again by someone associated with the Callahans. My plan for a fight against Cain had blown out of proportion. Abel refused to talk with me. Cain said I needed to give him space. It was odd that Cain turned out to want nothing from me. He was the one who told me where Abel’s bedroom was that night. He was the one who let me take his bed when I returned, and he slipped onto the floor to sleep instead. He was the one that assured me he’d work it out with Abel. So far, I didn’t have any indication that Abel was freed from the fight. It wasn’t that I thought Abel would be crushed by his brother, which was certainly a possibility. It was more so that I didn’t want him to fight his brother for me. I wasn’t an object to be won. In my heart, Abel already owned me.

  When I got to the place, my key opened the door easily and the apartment was empty. The furniture was well worn looking, and I hated to even imagine what kinds of specimens had been deposited on it. The kitchen was surprisingly bare. My room was as I left it: one dresser and a empty bed. My mother’s room was vacant. It was the appropriate word. Her clothing and minimal belongings were gone. My mother had disappeared.

  I sat with a thud on the corner of the unmade bed. The apartment suddenly had the feeling of a ghost town. Lives had been lived and wasted in this place, but not a soul remained. There was no trace of her. The unmade bed could have been a hint of struggle, but just as easily it was a sign of a woman who wrestled her own demons. Her missing clothes suggested she left willingly, either on her own or with another. Either way, she was gone, and I had no clue as to where she went. At twenty-one, I truly felt like the orphan I suddenly was. I’d never felt so alone.

  Highlands Gym was tucked outside the town of Preston, where the warehouses for computer production began. It had originally been a factory of some type, then been divided into small spaces. The gym was one of the larger areas rented. Shepherd was the manager as well as my coach. We worked hard as a team to train for the fight. Circuits of toning and cardio, as well as endurance and stamina, plus a regulated diet; changed my once lean and lanky physique into something a bit more buff while still tall. I wasn’t large and bulky like Cain, but I had speed like he didn’t. My mother had called me her mustang when I was a child because I could outrun Cain. It was the only thing I did better than him. She’d laugh that his bones were heavy, and it prevented him from moving with greater quickness.

  I was in the middle of training when a presence inside the gym silenced those working around me. I was finishing my workout with the bag, when I caught an image in the mirror behind it. A foreboding figure stopped behind me. Atom Callahan. As an opponent’s manager, he wasn’t allowed in my gym while I trained, especially before a big fight. Those were the rules. He had access to tapes like any other fight team, but entering my gym and watching me train was out of the question. I caught the bag to still its rocking and slowly turned to face him. As my father, he wasn’t allowed here either, in my opinion. This was my sanctuary, and he was decimating it with his presence.

  “Sir,” I said quietly. There was an eerie silence surrounding us as others within the gym stilled their workouts.

  “I came to see if the rumors were true. I’ll admit, I don’t know enough about Betta and his team,” my father guffawed. His words were almost spit out his mouth.

  “You aren’t allowed to be here. You have my stats, my tapes, and the program. All the information that is necessary has been provided, as it should be, from my manager.”

  “Yes, Jacobson, that putz. He’s weaseled his way into your contracts,” my father sneered, looking around the gym and sniffing as if he smelled something odiferous, other than the sweat of working bodies.

  “I don’t see how that’s your concern,” I snapped, taking a deep breath and standing taller. My father twisted to glare at me.

  “It actually isn’t my concern,” he stated. There was a pause. I couldn’t even imagine what his intention in being here was. He was a long way from Vegas.

  “You always were a slippery one. Swimming your way around me and letting Cain take the dirty work from you.”

  Dirty work? I thought. He meant the beatings. Cain took beatings that he, as our father, delivered.

  “Betta,” he snorted. “Almost an appropriate name.”

  I didn’t respond, but I stared at him in wonder.

  “You aren’t the fighter that name conjures,” he continued.

  I tensed. My shoulders flinched and I inhaled sharply. My nostrils flared in my growing annoyance. He wasn’t going to start insulting me in my gym.

  “What do you want?” I puffed out, drawing strength to remain calm.

  “I just had to see for myself,” he said, looking around the room again. It was as if he was a Basset Hound, on the hunt for his prey. He was practically sniffing for clues to I didn’t know what. It seemed like long minutes passed, but it might have only been a few short seconds before Shepherd approached. Taking determined, calculated steps, my coach walked slowly behind my father. As if sensing the invasion of his space, he turned to face my trainer.

  “I can’t believe it’s true,” he chuckled. My father smiled wide, but the look was pure evil.

  “Ava Shepherd,” he choked on a false laugh. He swung his head from me to her. “Your coach is a damn girl.” He laughed for real, this time, and my irritation grew. If it wouldn’t cost me the fight, I’d have laid him out. He was in my tank now. This was my space.

  “Atom,” she growled, attempting to say his name, but her teeth clenched in disgust. “What do you think you are doing in my gym?”

  “Your…” My father looked around him again. “gym?” he questioned. “This playroom isn’t a gym. And you aren’t qualified to coach,” he spat, taking a step toward her. My father had to be a good fifteen years older than Shepherd and was definitely two times bigger around, but she was almost as tall as him. Born of a fighter herself, the daughter of the world champion who had once beat my father, Ava had never let on that she knew him personally. The way they glared at one another told me that wasn’t the truth. To my surprise, she didn’t flinch at his approach. Her fists clenched. Her wrists twitched. She was holding herself back from releasing a fury I knew she contained inside her.

  She’d been married to a man who cheated on her. She’d been scorned by a man she once loved. That was her story. She told me it gave her the strength to prove she didn’t need a man. Those were the only details I knew of her history. Obviously, my father was some part of her history, as well.

  “Either way, you’re in breach of our negotiations. You have no right to be here. I’m giving you less than thirty seconds to vacate these premises before I call the fight commissioner.”

  “And what exactly will you tell him? I came to see my son,” my father said calmly, as if it was typical of him to be concerned for my training.

  “You have no right to call yourself his father,” Ava spat to my surprise. My father’s face turned red as I’d seen it when I was a child. He was reaching his threshold for annoyance. Ava Shepherd was a bug before him, and he was ready to squash her.

  “You little bitch,” my father groaned through a clenched jaw.

  “Hey,” I stepped forward, but Shepherd’s hand came up to stop me, without a glance in my direction.

  “You know, I know a lot about you, Mr. Callahan. And concern for your second son isn’t one of the things on that list. I suggest again that you leave my gym in fifteen seconds or less.”

  The standoff between my coach and my father could have almost been comical, if it wasn’t down right mesmerizing to watch a woman of almost six feet glare at a man two times her size in width. Her dark hair was pulled severely into a bun at the nape of her neck, giving her an old schoolmarm look, but the solid features of her toned body suggested otherwise. She would kick Atom’s ass, or at least put up a good fight against him. />
  “Ten,” she began, “nine, eight…”

  “Fine,” my father huffed. I was equally shocked that he backed down. He rolled his shoulders and turned toward me.

  “This is going to be fun,” he laughed without humor. He turned and lunged toward Ava, in a childish move to make her flinch. Twenty or so men in the place stepped forward in her defense. The flock was folding in to protect their shepherd. No man would touch her while we were around. To everyone’s amazement, Ava didn’t move. She hardly blinked. It was as if she anticipated his move and outwitted him. The frustration on my father’s face tightened his skin. He stepped back shrugging his shoulders. He clapped his hands before him and rubbed them quickly together.

  “Well, this is going to be fun,” he reiterated. “I’ll see you in the ring,” he said, addressing Shepherd instead of me. It was as if the fight was suddenly on between the coaches instead of the boxers.

  Creed made me go to a house party with him that night to take my mind off my father’s visit. I didn’t want to attend these functions, but my new manager encouraged my visible presence on campus. He said it was free publicity. My popularity would interest the students to attend the fight, order the pay-per-view, or place bets. Anyway they could be involved was spreading the word of Betta. I begrudged my friend and my advisors, despite my mood from my father. To make the night more bearable, I drank: too much. By the time Elma arrived, I was warm inside and feeling a bit outside myself.

  I watched her out of the corner of my eye as fans came and went to address me or stand near me. I didn’t get overly involved in conversation. I still didn’t care for crowds and stayed on the periphery when I could. Women would saunter up to me and slide under my arm. I’d hold the position until I couldn’t hold it any longer, then I’d let my hands fall off them. Some might lean into me. Some might grab my arm. Others would take the hint and eventually walk away. All the while I watched Elma.

  At one point, a guy slid his hand across her ass. I had a déjà vu of the first time I approached Elma at a party and I snapped. I crossed the room in three strides and pushed the guy back from her.

  “Keep your hands to yourself,” I hissed in his face, as my forearm pinned him by the neck against the wall. He’d dropped his red cup in surprise, and his expression looked like he might piss his pants.

  “Is she with you? I…I didn’t know,” he choked. “I heard you were done with her.”

  That pissed me off even further.

  “Done with her?” I growled. “I don’t own her. She’s not property,” I argued, emphasizing my words by pushing upward against his chin. His face was turning pink and I heard my name behind me.

  “You can’t dispose of her. She’s…she’s a…”

  “Abel,” my name shrieked at my elbow. I turned only slightly to see two of Elma in my vision.

  “Let him go,” she hissed.

  “Why? Do you want him now instead?” I bit. I pushed against him one final time then pressed back. I stared at Elma, but I had trouble bringing her into focus. I felt myself sway a little.

  “Okay, outside,” I heard garbled in my ear. I think it was Creed. My arm was gently tugged outside, while hands pressed on my back, and I was pushed to exit through a sliding glass door. I was dragged to the edge of the yard, where several large trees stood guard in a corner. I stumbled a little and my hands shot out to still me.

  “Are you crazy? A fight outside the ring could cost you the one inside it,” that sweet voice drawled in irritation.

  “Oh, and we don’t want that, would we? I need to keep that fight inside the ring,” I slurred sarcastically.

  Elma stopped in front of me. She was between me and the solid trunk of a tree. I could sense that Creed and possibly Lindee were near us.

  “Abel, you don’t need to keep the fight,” her voice lowered. “Things have gotten out of hand,” she added.

  “Do you think I can quit?” I slurred as I swayed a bit. An arm caught me, but I yanked my own upward.

  “Do you think I can just let Cain have you?” I hissed.

  “Cain isn’t going to have me.”

  “Oh yes, he is…” I slurred again, and my head nodded forward to exaggerate the words.

  “He’ll take you and keep you.”

  “Why would he do that?” she huffed, crossing her arms, which only pushed up her breasts. I stared unabashedly at them. I missed those heavy globes. I knew the weight of them, the taste of them, and my mouth watered. I wanted one between my lips again.

  “Abel,” she snapped my name, and my head shot upward to attempt to focus on her face. I couldn’t see her eyes clearly. The night was dark and crickets chirped in the early night of late spring.

  “He’ll own you,” I said. “He owns everything.” I swayed forward and reached out to stop myself from falling over. My hand rested on the tree behind Elma and it pinned her between me and it.

  “Okay, dude, you’re talking nonsense. No one owns anyone,” Creed said. “I think you need to step back. You’re scaring Elma,” he tried to tease.

  “Am I scaring you, Elma?” I whispered in a loud voice. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  “You aren’t scaring me,” she whispered in more of a true, quiet tone. It shook and despite my drunken state I recognized that hesitation.

  “Why, Elma?” my voice whined. “Why?”

  She stared at me a moment before asking her own question.

  “Why what?”

  “Why can’t they love me, Elma?” I asked in utter frustration. “Why can’t any of them love me? Is it because I paid for them?”

  I saw Elma swallow and her eyes shifted over to Creed before returning to me.

  “I…I don’t know what you mean,” she replied in a shaky voice.

  “Yes, you do, Elma. I paid for you. You should know what I mean. I can’t even pay for someone to pretend to love me. You can’t love me either, can you?”

  “Dude,” Creed said harshly beside me, and my head bopped toward him.

  “I paid for her,” I stated. My mouth grinned slowly. “I paid her tuition and she sold me out instead.”

  I was having trouble focusing on Creed, who only stared back at me.

  “What? Dude, you’ve clearly had too much.”

  “Tell him,” I addressed Elma. “Tell him,” I barked sharper. Elma flinched beneath me. I continued instead. “She didn’t have the tuition. Cain’s fault, so I paid. Oh boy, did I pay. I paid her tuition, and she set me up to fight my own brother.” My hand slipped from the bark of the tree, tearing at my skin, which felt no pain. I could feel nothing at the moment. My heart was hard. It hardly beat.

  “Why Elma?” I whined again softly. “All I ever wanted to do was love you.” My forehead rested against hers and I closed my eyes. “I only wanted to love you. Why couldn’t you love me, rúnsearc? Love me, Elma,” I pleaded. Our heads collided softly as my forehead rolled over hers, but then I was tugged to the side. I reached out for her but my reflexes were completely inhibited. I stumbled and tripped as Creed yanked me toward the front curb. I couldn’t form the words. Dude, I wanted to cry as I fumbled until I reached the car and realized I was crying. Tears dampened my face. In shame, I leaned my head forward to bang on the edge of the roof and passed out.

  Abel words left me utterly frozen. I was plastered to the tree at my back as if I was one with it.

  Love me, Elma, he pleaded. A series of Abel’s requests flooded my mind. Fuck me, Elma. Fight me, Elma. Then, he asked me to love him. I did love him, but telling him like this wasn’t how it was meant to be. Abel and I needed to talk. He was convinced I’d been with his brother, and he wouldn’t listen to me long enough to explain the truth. Nothing happened between Cain and I. We didn’t talk, but we’d come to a silent agreement. When I returned to his room, he rolled from his bed, taking the duvet with him and a pillow. He practically fell on the floor and made a makeshift bed. He was unashamed of his tight boxer briefs, but I wasn’t interested in him. I had just b
een with his brother in a manner that left me wired and reeling. I wasn’t certain what to feel after that time with Abel.

  “Did he hurt you?” Cain mumbled, not mentioning that I wore one of Abel’s shirts, instead of the dress I had exited Cain’s room in.

  “No,” I replied, but my voice shook. Abel hadn’t hurt me. I wasn’t certain what he’d done to me. He had been aggressive and rough, and I had strangely enjoyed it. It was his words that stung.

  He was done with me. He’d paid for me.

  Those words were more painful than the physical intrusion, which had been rather pleasurable in his haste. He’d repeated those words tonight.

  He’d paid for me.

  That was all I thought he could see. The dollar signs of paying my tuition. But then...All I wanted to do was love you, he said. He said, in his father’s home, he didn’t love me. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t let it be true. Abel was clearly not in the right frame of mind. He didn’t know what he was saying, but the mere thought of it being possible sent my heart aflutter. In fact, it flipped so rapidly, it was in my throat. I choked on a sob and tears sprang forward.

  “Oh, honey,” Lindee said, stepping up to me and brushing back my hair. “That was rough.”

  I could only shake my head. Maybe they didn’t hear what he said. Maybe I imagined it.

  “Did you really do that? Did you really let him pay your tuition?”

  I couldn’t look at her as the tears streamed down my face. I felt liquid inside. I was hopeless in the moment. No family. No money. No Abel.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you,” she sighed, pushing back my hair again and soothing me like my mother once did. The reminder of my mother, and the fact she’d simply disappeared, made me cry harder. I leaned forward and Lindee caught me in an embrace.

  “Oh, Elma, honey. I’m your best friend. I’m here for you.” She rubbed my back as I continued to cry on her shoulder. After a few minutes, she suggested we go home, and the tears fell as I began to laugh. Hysteria had hit me as I realized that the homeless, like me, had no place to call home.