Street Fighter: Dream Never Ends

by Talyn Rahman-Figueroa

  Ken took a sharp glimpse at his watch, examining the second hand that quickly moved over the numbers. Minutes were flying by. He clutched at the tournament itinerary, feeling his right leg shake with great impatience. With a scowl, he peered over at the driver, wondering what the holdup was. Hearing Eliza sigh, he reached out to hold her hand but she shook him off, remaining in the small corner of the taxi. She was tense and angry.

  Days turned into weeks and weeks had turned into months. Now their unborn child was four months growing. Eliza couldn’t believe how insensitive Ken had become. They were having another baby, after fourteen years, and a simple smile from Ken could not be called a celebration. Surely, learning about this new arrival should have encouraged him to drop the tournament completely, and focus on her for a change.

  She sighed again, thinking how she couldn’t do this alone, not for the second time. Her sister, Julia, acted as Ken’s surrogate, but ultimately it was his responsibility to be involved and look after her. Perhaps this baby would change nothing.

  The driver, a Russian, cranked up the radio a little louder despite the crackling distortion. The Hip Hop song was barely audible, but he enthusiastically bopped his head up and down to the booming bass.

  “Hip hop, cool,” the driver yelled over the noise. “My father hate this music. Too crap. I thought too but I feel like young man again.” His large shoulders heaved as he chuckled to himself.

  “Great,” Ken said to his wife with sarcasm. She was plainly ignoring him. “The last thing I need is bad music.”

  Eliza stared out of the window. The street was packed with young men who had unkempt hair and grimy clothes. Buildings around them had been destroyed by vandalism and only old rusty cars littered the roads. She shook her hair so that it fell over her forehead a little more. It made her uncomfortable to see women dressed in tight shiny outfits that hardly fit. She rubbed over her bare arms, feeling vulnerable at the sight of them, and forced herself to look away, only to notice the driver leering at her through the mirror. His sleazy gaze was riveted to her swollen breasts.

  “Not like young men in world today,” the driver continued to no one in particular. “Those stupid dolboeb kids make America bad. No consideration for people, think they own everything. Don’t wrong me, boss, but Russia is worse now. I still love America. Sometimes it bad. Stupid people fake me and don’t pay. One mudak kid, little bastard, hit my head with lead pipe. I got no insurance. My wife was mad.”

  Ken ignored him completely, still irritated by the sound of his croaky voice and the bass. Now he wished he had hired a car to drive into this dilapidated town, rather than rely atypically on taxis with unknown drivers. At least then, he would have had the luxury of choosing his own music, and driving in style. Eliza looked distressed and he should have been doubly careful when thinking of her safety, especially now.

  Ken smoothed his mouth with his hands several times, feeling troubled. He tried to reach over to his wife again, but she gave no reaction to his touch. The swell was unmistakable under her turtleneck sweater.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” Ken whispered, gently rubbing over her bump. “I should have paid more attention.”

  “Yeah, you should have,” she snapped. “Seriously, why can’t I ever have a normal pregnancy? You were too busy training for the first World Warrior tournament when I found out about Mel. See a pattern here, hot shot?”

  Ken dropped his head in shame, shrugging. “You should have just told me.”

  “How?” Her eyes were wide in alarm. “You get so wrapped up in your own world sometimes, it becomes too difficult to pull you out.”

  Ken pursed his lips, stroking Eliza’s lean fingers.

  “How the hell didn’t you notice?” she said, failing to conceal her anger.

  “I donno,” he shrugged, unable to meet her gaze. “Guess that explains your mood swings.”

  “Surprise! You’re gonna be a daddy again...” Eliza said, putting on an exaggerated toothy smile that seemed unnatural on her. She sounded like a TV trivia host. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “No,” Ken said, lifting his shoulders again. “Well, maybe. I donno. Liz, I’m so--”

  “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, Ken Masters,” she warned him, pointing a stern finger at him. “I’m pregnant with your child. This must be your last fight.”

  The seriousness in her voice finally made Ken look at her. Guilt clawed away at his heart.

  “You don’t wanna miss her being born, do you, with all your touring?” she said. This time she was smiling broadly. She felt Ken’s hand grip tight around hers, his face lit up with astonishment.

  “WHAT? We’re having a... a girl?” he tried to say as normally as possible, but was unable to control the rasping emotion in his voice.

  Eliza nodded in excitement, welcoming Ken’s positive reaction. Finally.

  He pulled his wife to him in a firm hug, kissing the side of her face. Eliza felt something wet on her cheek, then heard Ken take a deep intake of breath. He was crying. He was actually crying. She smiled.

  “Better late than never,” she said, relieved by Ken’s warm sentiment. Tears formed in her eyes.

  “Hey, congrats,” the driver bellowed over the loud music. “I have two daughters and four sons. Never too old to spice up marriage.”

  Ken coughed feebly, shaking himself from the momentary burst of emotion. He held Eliza’s white face in his hands, smoothing over her cheek before kissing her.

  “I was thinking of Celes,” she said warmly, pulling Ken’s hand to her chest. “Or Cassandra, after my grandmother.”

  She watched Ken nod as he contemplated the suggestion.

  “Hhmm, Celes Masters,” he tried it out. “Cassandra Masters. Cassie Celes Masters.”

  Eliza’s eyes shone with eagerness but her smile dropped when Ken looked at her sternly.

  “What?” she challenged him. “You hate it, don’t you?”

  She sat back into the seat, pouting slightly. Ken pulled her back to him, and kissed her again. This time, slower. Eliza wanted to laugh. She wasn’t expecting to feel a strong surge of happiness completely overwhelm her. It was almost uncanny.

  “Cici. We can call her Cici for short,” Ken finally said with a smile. Eliza felt her shoulders relax.

  “Okay, we’ll do it,” she smiled back. “And the name means heavenly.”

  “Oh, mamma, you’re heavenly,” Ken beamed before launching into a passionate kiss.

  “No hanky panky in my cab,” the driver shouted jokingly, but he was clearly ignored. “Oh, those stupid thieving kids are back,” the man continued, warily watching a group of young men on the sidewalk who leered back at him with dangerous eyes.

  “They need to be hit in the face. Dumb kids, make my job difficult,” the driver yelled, not caring whether his guests were attentive or not. “Mudak, all of them mudak.”

  The driver turned around so that he had a clear view of the couple, keeping his hands affixed to the steering wheel.

  “It’s them, the assholes,” he yelled to Ken, who resumed in his seat, unnerved by the driver’s sudden outburst. “I should go outside my cab and empty their pockets. Like compensation. Or sue like American style. He made me bleed. Wife was very very angry.”

  Ken stared at him unimpressed, which forced the driver to face forward again.

  “I got, umm, what you call it, concussion or something like that,” he tapped his head looking into the mirror to meet Eliza’s gaze.

  The cab driver suddenly stopped talking. He had been made breathless by Eliza’s beauty. Her sharp blue eyes were wandering over into the sight of the street. Her long blonde hair rested elegantly over her shoulder, and her radiant skin was enough to brighten up the interior of the cab. He licked his lips, carefully looking at Eliza’s pink lips in the reflection of the rear view mirror. He envisioned kissing her, with her lipstick smeared all over his face.

  The car croaked loudly, followed by a series of h
onks by passers-by. He had forgotten to shift gears.

  “Keep up, Grandpa,” Ken bellowed, as he fiddled with his Blackberry. “Slow us down anymore and you lose out on your tip.”

  “Yes boss,” the driver replied assertively, pulling himself out of his fantasy. “This is new cab, boss, modern techno--”

  “And keep your thoughts to yourself, will ya,” Ken interrupted, shaking his head disapprovingly. Eliza gave an uneasy smile.

  “Boss, ostyn’ okay, chill out. Look, crazy queue up front. I’m trying hard to get you to Mirror Tale. Don’t take it out on Alexsandr. Jesus.”

  The Blackberry beeped once. The message was sent. At least now, Ken had a bodyguard arranged for Eliza while he fought in the ring. She was more than capable to look after herself, especially as the wife of a martial artist, but with her current condition, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Miss,” the driver started again, looking into his mirror. “I don’t want to be rude but, Jesus, you are beautiful.”

  “Come again?” Ken said, giving him a harsh look. He held onto Eliza protectively.

  “Honey,” Eliza whimpered, but the driver spoke over her.

  “Compliment, boss. You have the good taste,” he smiled into the mirror, straightening up to catch more of Eliza.

  He adjusted the mirror lower so that he was able to observe her better. The tops of her breasts were now fully showing. He quietly sniggered, then suddenly squealed. The car came to a harsh halt.

  With his bare hands, Ken had clenched the driver’s jaw shut, pulling him close to his face. The driver sputtered, spitting at Ken’s face in fear. His cheeks ached with the pressure of Ken’s fingers.

  “Don’t you EVER look at my wife like that, do you hear me, jackass?” Ken’s voice was edgy and menacing. “No one leers at my wife. Understood?”

  He glared into the man’s dark eyes threateningly. The driver nodded in total submission.

  “Glad we got that straightened out,” Ken said, then released the driver, leaving pale finger marks on his stubby face.

  “Now drop us round the corner. You’ve made me late.”

  “Ye...Yes boss,” the driver stuttered, too afraid to look anywhere but straight ahead.

  In disgust, Ken wiped his hands on his jeans. He signaled for Eliza to get out of the vehicle. She leapt out without hesitation, struggling to reunite with her husband.

  Without conscious effort, the driver looked at her. The view of Eliza’s butt was even more gorgeous than he had anticipated.

  “Hey buddy?” he heard Ken say, and as he turned toward him the driver felt his eyes water. Bursts of blood splashed his hand.

  Ken’s fist smashed into his face.

  Stepping out of the vehicle, Ken threw a small wad of cash into the driver’s lap.

  “That’s for your wife. Call it, compensation.”

  The driver stepped hard onto the gas pedal, and fled leaving tire marks.

  “Asshole,” Ken spat out, taking a firm grasp around Eliza’s waist. “Now we have to walk there.”

  *****

  Chapter 28:

  ALL WARMED UP