Paradise Fought: Abel

by L. B. Dunbar

  In reality, Cain could beat me. My head would overrule my body. I’d let Cain serve me what I believed he’d been holding off from doing his whole life: giving me the beating he took. Shepherd must have sensed when my thoughts overtook me, and she worked me twice as hard in the ring with sparring partners. The night of the fight, she paced my changing room as I waited for the call to the ring. I closed my eyes to her patterned movement. She was making me dizzy and increasing my nerves.

  A knock rapped on the door and announced my time. I followed the guide with Shepherd at my side. Creed was in the crowd. He was the only one I could count on being there for me. My father would be sitting behind Cain. Elma would definitely not be there. She had her performance earlier in the day. Besides, I didn’t think she would show her support of me anyway. I tried not to think of my disappointment. My head hung low as I walked the narrow hallway to the arena.

  The media coverage was insane. There were designated places to stop for cameras; specific directions to look in for photographs; and the final instruction to pause and wait for an introduction.

  “Ladies and gentlemen…”

  As the underdog, I was announced first.

  “In this corner, weighing in at two hundred ten, six-four, Baaaaayyy-taaaa.”

  The crowd cheered for me. Their enthusiasm for a fight flooded my veins which pumped with nervous energy.

  But they downright exploded for Cain.

  “And in this corner, with his premiere return to the ring, weighing in at two-hundred fifty pounds, standing six-two, Coooo–bbra.”

  He was the prodigal son returned. The fattened calf was out in whistles and screams that filled the big ring. The fans wanted blood. A shark was in the tank, and the little fish was going down.

  I watched the entrance of my brother. All eyes were drawn to him as he walked in his red silk robe. His arms bulged. His strut cocky. His presence commanded the arena.

  “Ignore,” Shepherd demanded behind me, as she rubbed my shoulders and slapped against my back. I’d refused the additional support Mr. Jacobson wanted to hire to help Shepherd coach me. I was superstitious enough not to want to change anything in my routine. I also wanted to win on my own terms, not those of someone else. Ava Shepherd was my coach, plain and simple. It never bothered me that she was a woman. It fazed me only as long as it took for her to kick my ass. Then I didn’t think twice about her training me.

  “Gentlemen, approach,” the referee demanded. Flash photography wasn’t allowed, but the amount of high definition lenses pointed in our direction made our greeting the spectacled display it was meant to portray. Brother meets brother–in the ring.

  We bumped fists before the buzzer sounded and the fight began. I didn’t hear any announcer. I didn’t hear the crowd. I heard the taunts of my father in my head.

  You’re weak; you’re worthless.

  You can’t do anything right.

  You’re never going to amount to anything.

  “Focus,” the snarl of my brother broke through my thoughts. “Get in the fight.” My surprise at his words resulted in a left hook to the abs and my natural response was a right to his chest. His eyes opened wide only briefly at the connection. The slightest of smirks egged me on. The fight began in earnest.

  Upper cut to the chin from Cain. A jab to the lower kidney and I went down. Cain was over me in a hold and my head rolled to the side. The buzzer called the end of round one. As I returned to my corner, I caught the eye of Creed, who nodded left. I typically didn’t look outside the ring. My attention was inside it, but something caught my eye in that brief second, or rather someone. I glanced across the ring at Cain once I was seated. He was centered and unwavering in his stare at me.

  We returned to center.

  “She’s here,” I growled through clenched teeth and a mouth guard. He didn’t lose his concentration on the fight at hand.

  “You’re fucking with me?” he attempted, as his dark eyes narrowed and the sound of the buzzer signaled the round began. I swung and he ducked. “Trying to make me look, Abel? That’s child’s play,” he cursed. I didn’t respond. We needed to fight on. I remained in it from that point forward. Jabs and stabs. Kicks and twists. We circled around each other. The Cobra struck, but the Betta could swim. I darted out of hooks and cuts, getting in a fair share of my own before Cobra stung. He was an unparalleled fighter, compared to me, and I was exhausted quickly as he worked around me. A round house kick brought me down again and Cain was over me.

  “Fuck, Abel, give in,” he growled as his fist hit my cheek. I retaliated with a blow to his ear. The buzzer tolled. I was losing.

  We each took a corner. This time I remained focused on Cain. My heart raced with the flow of adrenaline. Endorphins released cutting off the pain. I narrowed in on the look of my father’s face behind Cain. How many times had I seen that look? Disappointment was written all over his face. He wanted this to be a clean fight; a knock out in one round, proving Cain’s ability over mine. Proving his coaching of his eldest son over my coaching by a woman. Proving that he was the master and Cain would be his servant, delivering blows he could no longer produce. I shifted my eyes to Cain.

  His attention had turned slightly outside the ring behind me, and I could only assume he’d finally seen what I hinted at. Sofie Vincentia was behind me. Cain’s expression turned to hate instantly. His eyes flicked to mine. It was like I could read them. His anger at Sofie on my side of the ring was evident. It finally occurred to me. Cain didn’t want Sofie to love me, because he loved her. It made me feel sorry for Elma all over again, but I had renewed energy and bait for my brother.

  Returning to center, I taunted him again.

  “She’s here for…” I barely had the word ‘me’ out of my mouth and he’d clocked it. My head jolted to the side. Blood sprang from my lips, and I was certain I’d lost a tooth from the impact. I tried to strike back but Cain was on fire. He punched and kicked in a steady stream of moves that could have been choreographed by a dancer. It was electric and beautiful, and wearing me down. I cowered for a moment until I heard a voice yell my name.

  “Kick his ass, Betta.”

  I stood tall at the sound and went down at an unexpected blow. Cain covered me, his breath hot in my ear.

  “How could you do it?” he growled.

  “Do what?” I grunted.

  “I’ve never asked anything of you, Abel. Anything. How could you take her from me?”

  At this my head swung and I gained the leverage I needed to free him from me. We faced off again, fists raised, nostrils flaring.

  “I didn’t take her,” I hissed. “You took Elma.”

  I struck out at him in my renewed anger. He might never have asked anything of me, but it didn’t give him the right to take from me either.

  “I didn’t take her,” he barked. I didn’t believe him, and I let him know with a right hook to the chin.

  “I didn’t fuck her,” he snarled, as he returned the favor of a right hook to mine.

  I was startled and momentarily forgot where my head was supposed to be. The secondary slip caused another blow to the head. My ears rang. I shook my head, freeing it of images of Elma and Cain.

  “Then who…” My voice trailed off as we continued to jab and stab at one another. Angered barks of frustration and misunderstanding fought between us. It occurred to me again, that he had a strange fixation with Sofie Vincentia.

  “Why is she important to you?” It was too much to ask and Cain took me down. As we hit the mat, his words were garbled in my ear. I couldn’t believe I’d heard him correctly.

  A countdown began in my head.

  10 – 9 -

  “I’ve never asked anything before,” he grunted, “but I’m asking now.”

  I didn’t understand what he wanted from me. I fought with halfhearted knocks to his sides.

  “We need to end this,” he grunted in a voice meant only for me. I assumed he was about to ask me to quit. I was under him. He had me pinned in
such a way that I couldn’t move my neck.

  6 –

  “You need to set me free,” he growled, pushing down on me for emphasis. “Take me down.”

  3 – 2 –

  He released me on those words and my head twisted in utter disbelief. He couldn’t be serious. I was already losing the match. He sprang back as if I pushed him, but he took me with him to make it look real. His dark eyes met mine, and for the briefest of seconds, he pleaded with mine. My eyebrows pinched. I didn’t know what he wanted. Then to my surprise, he coached me. In grunts and shifts, he told me where to punch him. He hinted how to kick. We were running out of time when he threw his head back and I knew what to do. My fist connected with his face and Cain went down in a heap of pain.

  The gasp of dismay from the crowd was the first sound I heard, outside of Cain’s encouragement. The audience waited while Cain lay flat and the buzzer peeled. My hand was raised as I stared down at my brother. He’d let me win. He’d coached me how. Instead of victory, I felt defeat. I felt cheated.

  Nonetheless, the fans exploded in an uproar of protest and jeers as I was declared the winner.

  Abel had beat Cain in this round of history.

  I couldn’t get into the changing area. I didn’t have a press pass or a VIP ticket for entrance, so I waited with the throngs of new admirers outside the side door. My body was jostled and pressed into others; damp with the excitement of what I’d heard was an exhilarating fight. I’d missed it all. My flight arrived an hour after start time. I was lucky I made it this far without missing him. Abel. I had come to show him I was proud of him. Win or lose, I wanted him to know it didn’t matter to me. I’d take my punishment. I trusted Cain wouldn’t hurt me. He’d already hurt our family enough. Both our families were hurt enough.

  “Elma!” My name crossed the heads of fans, and then I was enveloped in Lindee’s arms. She was jumping up and down in glee. Abel had won, she kept repeating. I’d already heard the news. When she finally released me, I was briefly embraced by Maggie and Lucie, who both looked a little drugged from the excitement of watching an arena fight. Creed was last and his look of surprise proved what I believed earlier. Abel had not sent the plane ticket.

  “You’re here?” he questioned.

  “Yes,” I said, turning to my friend. “Thanks for the ticket,” I addressed Lindee. Her face was still flush from the enthusiasm of the fight and the heat of crushed bodies.

  “I didn’t send you a ticket,” she stated, her almond colored eyes sparkling with amusement. She fiddled with the VIP pass that hung around her neck.

  “Yes, you did,” I teased. “The plane ticket. I really appreciate it.”

  Her face began to fall. “Honest, Elma. I didn’t send you one.”

  “Elma?” The rough voice of the newest fighting sensation snapped both our attentions to him. He looked breathtaking with his dampened hair. He wore a tight t-shirt with a jacket of some type over it and dark jeans. He looked professional. He looked serious. Blue eyes stormed at me.

  “Hey,” I spoke weakly. “Congratulations.”

  Ignoring my words, he barked low. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…”

  Cameras were snapping and the chatter of those around us was overwhelming me. I couldn’t think. He looked…angry. Gripping my arm, he pushed me backward and I fell through a swinging door. It closed almost as instantly as it opened. Abel immediately braced himself against it to hold the media at bay. I hardly had a moment to realize we were inside a bathroom when Abel spoke again.

  “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

  I blinked at the edge in his voice. My mouth went dry and I swallowed, but it scratched like sand poured down my throat.

  “I…I wanted to support you. I miss you.” I tried not to whine, but my voice gave out.

  “Support me? Or did you just come to make certain Cain won? Then you’d belong to him?” Abel bit.

  “No. No, nothing like that. I’m not…why do you keep accusing me of being with Cain?”

  “I saw you outside his room, remember? Do you remember that night, Elma?” His hand twitched like he was about to reach for me, as his voice turned momentarily tender. Then he pulled it back and slapped it against the door at his side.

  “Of course, I remember that night, Abel,” I replied quietly, a slow smile coming to my face. It had been rough and raw, and I cherished every minute of it while it happened. Even more so afterward, as I was convinced I’d never be with Abel Callahan again.

  “But you were with Cain afterward, weren’t you?”

  “You think…” Anger brewed. My hand came up on instinct. The palm never connecting with its target as Abel was fast. I should have known better. I’d seen him fight. He was quick. He held my wrist, suspended in the air between us.

  “I never,” I spit, “ever,” I growled, “laid a hand on him. And he didn’t touch me.” There was venom in my tone. I couldn’t believe the accusation. I despised Cain Callahan.

  “Then why are you here?” Abel said, giving my wrist a squeeze, a tug, and then releasing it like he couldn’t stand to touch me.

  “I told you. I’m here for you.”

  “For me,” he laughed bitterly. I interrupted him.

  “I came to celebrate with you,” I pleaded, my voice growing soft. I questioned what I had done. I’d flown eight hours, hundreds of miles, racing to get to him. For what? I wondered.

  “You ignored me for years, Elma. Now you want to ride the Abel success train?” he snapped.

  “You’re free, Elma. I won. Cain doesn’t own you. You don’t owe me. We’re done.”

  He rolled to his side and yanked open the door before I could even reply. The cameras flashed the second the door opened, and the sound of cheers came to a sudden close as the door shut, leaving me behind. Again.

  “You can’t keep giving me the slip, Mr. Callahan.” The brunette girl with dark, narrow glasses, glared at me as I stormed to the bar. A party was waiting. It was my celebration. I should have been happy, but I was angered. I should have been on a high, but I was on edge. Elma pissed me off.

  “Look…” I paused. I couldn’t remember her name.

  “Ruthie,” she clarified, pushing up the glasses on her nose.

  “Ruthie. I don’t need a babysitter.” I stopped, crossing my arms as the beat from the bar pulsed through the closed doors. Once it was open and I was noticed, all hell was going to break loose again. I was able to slip away a second time, to a men’s room, to collect myself for a moment after my encounter with Elma.

  “I’m not a babysitter. I’m your assistant. I’ve been hired by Mr. Jacobson to take care of you,” she answered. I couldn’t help it. My eyes roamed her body. Pencil skirt that hugged her thighs. Tight suit jacket that bulged over breasts. A crisp white shirt that hinted at a peek of skin. Pearl necklace. Nerd glasses. In another lifetime, Ruthie Avery would have been perfect for me.

  “Take care of me how?” I teased and raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Not like that,” she blushed. Her face turned bright red. It was cute. She was cute, but I wasn’t in the mood to play.

  “Then you’re a babysitter.”

  “You’re not a baby,” she said, flushing again. She made a subtle fan of her face then gripped her iPad covered in leather to hold her hands steady.

  “No, I’m not. But I’m not interested,” I stated, raising an eyebrow again. She pulled herself upward, drawing in a breath.

  “I’m your assistant and you will respect me,” she demanded, taking on a tone of authority that was well beyond her age. She couldn’t be much older than me.

  “Are you serious?” I laughed.

  “Don’t I look serious?” she inquired, but she draped her hand down her body, emphasizing her attire. The move was more game show hostess than competent athletic assistant, and I bit my lip to suppress a laugh.

  “Very,” I teased again, then winked. She raised the iPad to cover her lips, which I could only assume held
a smile.

  “Mr. Callahan,” she warned. “You are not to slip away from me again.”

  “And if I do?” I threatened playfully, leaning in like Elma had taught me. The thought of Elma made me pull back instantly. Ruthie’s face fell and she tugged at the edge of her suit jacket. We both turned at the click of heels coming down the tiled hall. Elma stopped and stared at us. I could only imagine how we looked. My hand was still braced on the wall behind Ruthie, even though I had pulled back from her. My body language was casual. Ruthie was flushed red.

  “Elma?” I questioned. The look on her face was pure sadness. Her cheeks had gone white. She spun and ran. I took a step to follow her but a delicate hand gripped my jacket sleeve.

  “Mr. Callahan,” she stopped me. “Your fans await. It’s part of the contract. You have to let her go, for now.” Ruthie’s voice softened. Her eyes took a look of pity. It wasn’t a look I ever wanted to see again, so I reached for the door and let the explosion of music draw me into the crowd.

  The energy of the bar was overwhelming. I had never done well with crowds. The constant casual touches, the shouts in my ear, and the overall atmosphere was too much. I told myself I would give it an hour. Ruthie told me I had to give it two, but seeing as I paid her paycheck suddenly, I would play by my rules not hers.

  I was finally able to perch on one of the VIP couches to the left of the dance floor and main bar. I was watching the girls dancing on the flashing neon floor. Lindee was absent, but Lucie, Maggie, and Sofie were working it. I sipped my drink surrounded by strangers, suddenly noticing that my best friend was suspiciously absent as well. I felt the presence of someone behind me. The girl next to me, who was trying to get my attention by rubbing up and down my thigh, was tapped on the shoulder. I didn’t have interest in the bubbly blonde hair next to me, but I was still upset that someone else wanted her attention. I turned to look over my shoulder.

  “Hey.” I spun trying to keep my calm, but losing it with the nervous vibe of the bar around me.