“Hey, youngblood.” That was The Smasher, an older black wrestler with a gravelly voice who grew up in the seventies and spoke as if he were still living in that decade. He clapped Rafael on the shoulder. “There’s a whole lot of fine tail here tonight. You’re the star of this show. Take your pick.” He waved his hand in a kingly gesture, offering permission for Rafael to choose a woman.
“No, thanks.” Rafael started to walk away, but The Smasher slipped his arm around his neck and held him in place.
“You need to stop all this sulking now. Time to get with the program.” The putrid odor of bad breath mixed with heavy doses of beer and hard liquor drifted under Rafael’s nose. “That girl ain’t thinking about you.”
Rafael stiffened. He didn’t bother to point out Rebekah wasn’t just any “girl.” She was his wife. It made no difference to the other men. They still teased him. Half of them were married with a wife and kids at home, but they didn’t let it stop their fun.
“She all the way in Atlanta,” The Smasher continued. “She probably got her one of them college men by now. Or you best believe Daddy’s done set her up with one of them fine Christian men in his congregation.”
The same thoughts had crossed his mind. Her father had never thought he was good enough and had said no when Rafael asked for Rebekah’s hand in marriage. So what would keep him from pointing out all the eligible young men available and capable of providing for his daughter in a traditional way?
Angry, Rafael shoved the other man’s arm off his shoulder. The Smasher backed up, laughing as he did so. “Whoa, now,” he said. “Don’t get mad at me for speaking the truth.”
“That’s my wife you’re talking about,” Rafael snarled.
The Smasher looped his arms around the necks of two women standing nearby. “Listen here, this is America. You ain’t in Mexico no more, hombre. In America, you can have anything you want. Anything.” He pulled the two women closer to emphasize his point. They giggled. “If a tree falls on a bear in the forest…no, wait a minute…if a bear pisses in the woods and no one is around…no…ah, what the hell! You know what I’m trying to say. She ain’t here, so what she don’t know can’t hurt you.” With an exaggerated, drunken wink, The Smasher lumbered off toward one of the bedrooms with both women.
Sick of what he saw and trying to escape his gloominess, Rafael headed out onto the patio for some fresh air. He was out there for a few minutes when he heard movement behind him. A bottle of beer appeared, connected to a female hand. He took the beer and turned to face the woman attached to the arm.
She had a round face, large brown eyes, and short, dark hair. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Marisol.”
She didn’t look like the typical groupie. Her hair wasn’t teased to the heights of small buildings, her face wasn’t padded with too much makeup, and her body was twice as covered as the other women inside.
“Thank you.”
“You’re from Mexico City, right?” she asked.
He nodded.
“That’s where my parents are from. I was born here in the States, but I visit every chance I get.”
“What are you doing here, Marisol?”
“I’m here with a friend.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s a fan of one of the other wrestlers. I can’t remember his name. Mind if I stay out here with you?”
“No.”
He brought out two of the dining room table chairs, and they sat outside and talked for some time. Later, when all hell broke loose, all he could think was that he should have never gone to the suite in the first place. He never even touched Marisol, or any other woman there, but the fallout was as devastating as if he had slept with them.
Two reporters for a national tabloid had been at the party that night with hidden cameras. Their assignment was to shed light on the wrestling industry and the athletes who traveled around, leaving wives and children at home. The exposé uncovered the drug use, drinking, and sex rampant in the industry.
When the story broke, it was all over the news. He was still traveling at the time and called Rebekah immediately. As one of the more popular wrestlers, his name and image featured prominently in the piece, and there was no mistaking the distinctive Aztec tattoo on his left bicep. The colorful illustration depicted Mixcoatl, the Aztec god of war and the hunt.
He had explained to Rebekah that he hadn’t done anything wrong, but she hadn’t believed him. Eventually, she refused to take any more of his calls. He continued to call until one night her father answered and told him to leave his daughter alone. She could do better than a liar and an adulterer. Rebekah sent a message to him through her father: She wanted a divorce.
After he hung up, he was in a daze. Then, the consequences of his actions buried him under a weight of anger. With a roar, he attacked the hotel room. He broke apart the dresser and smashed the mirror above it with his fist. He never saw the blood or felt the pain of the shards imbedded in his hand.
The noise finally penetrated the revelry of music and laughter in the other room of the suite. Wrestlers poured into the room, and he tried to smash them too.
“Hold on, youngblood. Save it for the ring, son.”
He was young, he was strong, and he had the adrenaline of anger and pain pumping through his veins. It took all five of them to restrain him. The room was in a shambles. Someone called Marty, and he rushed over to the hotel right away.
Marty lectured him for a long time. “Use your anger in the ring,” he said.
That’s exactly what Rafael did.
He was unmatched in the arena of amateur fighting, and the bad publicity only helped his bad boy image. Within months, his persona skyrocketed, and Marty was able to ink a lucrative deal with World Wrestling Entertainment.
He had found success, but he wasn’t happy. He threw himself into the lifestyle, taking his pleasure from different women and drinking to drown his sorrows. The only bright spot in his life was when he was in the ring. His fans helped him through those dark days. Before each entrance, the audience chanted his name in excited frenzy.
“La Sombra! La Sombra!”
His marriage may have died, but his wrestling career had just been born.
Chapter Five
“Ricky, come on, let’s go!”
“Coming, Mom!” Ricardo bounded down the stairs.
They were both freshly showered and changed into clean clothes after spending the day at Zoo Atlanta. Rebekah watched as he lifted the paper sack of vegetables she’d picked from the garden to take to her parents’ house.
She wore a maxi dress, the lovely print flattering against her dark skin. Her long, thick hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders.
“You look pretty, Mom,” Ricardo volunteered.
“Thank you, sweetie.” Rebekah leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Ready?”
“Yep!”
She pulled open the door. Rafael was on the other side, standing with his hand poised to ring the doorbell.
“Dad!” Ricardo squealed.
“What are you doing here?”
He quirked a brow, his warm gaze sliding over her sun-kissed bare arms and shoulders, exposed by the spaghetti straps of the dress. His appreciative gaze lingered a fraction too long at the spot where the dress dipped over her ample breasts before falling in loose folds to swirl around her calves. A tingling sensation surfaced in the pit of her stomach and her breasts tightened under the weight of his blatant male perusal.
“I came to see if I could take the two of you to dinner.”
Rebekah couldn’t help staring at him. He looked good enough to eat in a pair of snug-fitting jeans and a white polo shirt that contrasted nicely against his swarthy skin.
“We already have plans,” Ricardo said. “We’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Wanna come?”
“Ricky, I don’t think—”
“I would love to.” Rafael’s words sliced across her protesting. “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”
“Grandpa says Grandma cooks eno
ugh food to feed the entire state of Georgia.”
Rafael flashed a heart-stopping smile. “There shouldn’t be any problem with me joining you for dinner, then, should there?”
“Nope.”
“Rafe, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Rebekah said, finally able to squeeze in a word. She was almost certain the two of them were conspiring against her.
“And why’s that?” Rafael asked.
“You know why,” Rebekah said through gritted teeth, conscious of Ricardo’s curious gaze during their conversation. “I wouldn’t want to surprise my parents with unexpected company. You were supposed to be gone a couple of days.”
“My plans changed. I came back early because I wanted to spend time with my son.”
“You can’t expect me to just spring this on my parents at the last minute.”
“No, I don’t. You can give them a call first and warn them I’m coming. How’s that?”
Rebekah sighed heavily. “Let’s just go, okay?”
There was no point in arguing. Although his face appeared friendly, he wouldn’t budge, and it seemed almost petty to deprive him of time with Ricardo when he stood right in front of them.
The three climbed into Rafael’s rented Lexus SUV. Once she was comfortably buckled into the tan leather seats, Rebekah called her parents. The phone rang four times and went to voicemail. She left a quick message.
“This is a really bad idea,” Rebekah murmured. She kept her voice low so Ricardo couldn’t hear her in the back seat.
“I disagree.” Rafael glanced at her before returning his eyes to the road. “They might as well get used to having me back in their lives.”
“You could have waited.”
“Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.”
“You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?” Rebekah fumed, folding her arms across her chest.
“I have to admit, I can’t wait to see the look on your father’s face when he finds out I’m back in your life.” His cool gray eyes locked with hers, and Rebekah felt a shiver run down her spine. Her eyes skittered away from his to look out the passenger window. How could she still be so attracted to him?
Years ago, he had caused her to behave in a manner completely outside the scope of her character. She had disobeyed her parents by sneaking around behind their backs. She had run off and gotten married to a man they vehemently disapproved of. Deep down, she was terrified her lapse in judgment was not limited to the idiocy of youth.
“I was going to tell them tonight.”
“You still can. I’ll be right there to help you with the explanation.”
That was the problem, and he very well knew it. Rebekah closed her eyes against the passing scenery. It was going to be a long night.
* * * *
Twenty-five minutes later, the SUV pulled into the driveway of the Jamison house. It was a large, traditional two-story home in the Eagle’s Landing country club community located twenty-four miles south of Atlanta. The seven bedroom house sat on a premium lot with a professionally landscaped yard overlooking the golf course.
Dr. Adam Jamison, Sr. was the pastor of the largest Baptist congregation in the Southeast. The community where he and his wife lived was 3,000 acres of luxury living, which included a 27-hole golf course, eight lighted tennis courts, three swimming pools, and fitness facilities.
Ricardo ran ahead of them with his package of vegetables to the front door and let himself in. Rebekah followed more slowly, dreading the pending conversation with her parents. For his part, Rafael appeared completely unconcerned, which grated on her nerves. It wasn’t fair he should be so calm and cool when she was coming undone like a loosened spool of string.
“Grandma! Grandpa!” she heard her son bellow on his way to the kitchen. His sneakered feet slapped loudly against the marble tile as he bolted through the two-story foyer.
This house had once been his home. They had lived in the two bedrooms and bath in the basement after she and Rafael split, but they’d had unlimited access to the top floors. After working part-time and earning her degree in education, it was another year before Rebekah had saved enough to put a down payment on the three-bedroom fixer-upper she now owned in the city of Stone Mountain.
Nowadays, the apartment downstairs was used as temporary housing for anyone who was experiencing financial difficulties. When it was empty, out-of-town visitors to the church had the option to stay there instead of a hotel.
As Rafael closed the door behind them, Rebekah could hear her mother laughing. “I can’t wait to see your surprise,” she said with her singsong Caribbean accent.
“Please, let me do the talking,” Rebekah said softly to Rafael.
“As you wish.”
Shortly thereafter, her mother appeared wearing an apron over her slacks, being led by Ricardo, whose little hand pulled her forward. She had her eyes closed but was smiling, taking obvious delight in his excitement. Her waist-length hair was pulled back from her face in a thick braid. Her light-colored skin indicated her biracial heritage.
“Okay, Grandma, open your eyes.”
Rebekah pasted a smile on her face, determined not to let her mother know how deeply the events of the past day had affected her. Both of her parents had seen her at her worst after the breakup of her marriage, and she knew how much they had hurt for her during that ordeal. She didn’t want them to be concerned about her. She was older and wiser and could handle the situation with Rafael on her own without assistance.
“Ta-da! This is my dad!” Ricardo’s boisterous behavior continued unrestrained. It was almost funny. He had no idea the enormity of the unfolding events. For him, it was simply exciting, and he wanted his father and grandmother to meet.
Mrs. Jamison’s eyes flicked from Rebekah to Rafael in a face drained of color.
“Mom, your mouth is open,” Rebekah said.
Stirred from her daze, her mother quickly shut her mouth. She cleared her throat. “Well, I…this really is a surprise.” She smiled weakly.
“He’s a wrestler,” Ricardo added proudly.
“I’m sorry this had to happen like this.” Rebekah walked over to her mother and gave her a hug. “It was a surprise for me, too. I didn’t want to spring it on you, but no one answered the phone when I called earlier to let you know I was bringing company.”
“Yes, well, I was in the kitchen finishing up dinner, and your father was taking a nap. I heard the phone ring, but…I will certainly be more vigilant about answering it in the future.” Mrs. Jamison’s brown eyes roved over her daughter’s face with concern. “Are you all right?” She brought her thin fingers up to Rebekah’s shoulder.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” She could pull it off. She could convince them everything was fine.
Mrs. Jamison seemed to want to say more, but she stopped herself. She looked past her daughter to Rafael. “Welcome, Rafael. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has.” Rafael came forward and clasped his mother-in-law’s hand in both of his. “How is it possible that you’ve become even more beautiful?”
“Well,” she said, her cheeks blooming with color, “that’s very kind of you.”
“I only speak the truth.”
Rebekah thought it would be better for Rafael to save his charm for her father. While her mother had not been happy about their elopement and had agreed with her father regarding the suitability of Rafael for their daughter, she had not approved of keeping Ricardo a secret. Nonetheless, she understood what Rebekah had gone through and had supported her all these years.
When she and Rafael got married after her father had denied permission to Rafael, he declared Rafael had stolen his daughter from him. In the years since then, his dislike of Rafael had never wavered.
“Is that my grandson I hear?” Her father’s booming voice, which had the same pitch of a blues singer and was the perfect timbre for a pastor of a mega church, could be heard from upstairs. Dr. Jamison came into view on the land
ing above. “Is that my grand—” The words died in his throat, his right foot hovering above the top stair.
“Hi, Dad.” It was all she could think of to say at the moment.
“Grandpa, this is my dad. He’s a wrestler. His name is La Sombra.”
Her father looked like he’d just seen a ghost. “I know who your father is.”
“Rebekah tried to call us, dear, but we didn’t answer the phone.” She could hear the nervous strain in her mother’s voice.
Dr. Jamison descended the curved staircase very slowly.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more notice, but Ricky asked Rafe to join us for dinner.”
“Is everything okay?” her father asked when he arrived at the bottom.
“Everything is fine, Dad.”
“Dr. Jamison.”
“Rafael.”
The stilted greeting between the two of them increased the tension already heavy in the air.
Mrs. Jamison took Ricardo’s hand. “Let’s finish getting dinner ready. You have your job to do.”
“I have to set the table,” Ricardo said, looking up at his father.
“That’s a very important job,” Rafael told him.
Ricardo nodded and then disappeared with his grandmother.
The moment they were out of earshot, Rebekah’s father turned on Rafael. His dark face was filled with anger. “What do you think you’re doing here in my house? I told you a long time ago you’re not welcome here.”
“Dad, please.”
“I would have thought that would have changed by now.” Rafael’s voice was quiet, but she knew he was nowhere near intimidated by her father. Although her father wasn’t a small man, Rafael was wider and taller than him by several inches.
“Nothing has changed,” Dr. Jamison said. “You stole my daughter away, and then when you were done having your fun, you broke her heart, and I had to be there to pick up the pieces.”
“Dad, stop it.”
“Dr. Jamison, I came here to spend time with the son I never knew I had.”
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