Fight

by Cara Nelson

  Kyle had to face a middleweight four years younger than him, and the age difference showed in speed and reflexes. After ten grueling rounds, Kyle took a hit to the kidneys that he didn’t come back from. He steadied himself on the ropes, but it was over. He held up his hand reluctantly, capitulating, and the ref awarded the middleweight title to Kyle’s opponent. Aaron wanted to check on him, knowing he’d taken a bigger knock to the ego than the kidneys, but it was time for him to fight. His brother was down for the count. It would be up to him to turn the Dolan family fortunes.

  Zoe watched him with her heart in her throat. The guy he was fighting looked like a monster, like some dead-eyed killer from a prison drama, huge and terrifying. She felt like throwing up at the very thought of Aaron having to face him. As Aaron approached the ropes, pausing for a photo, she abandoned her camera and ran to him, dragging on his arm as he peeled the tape off his hands.

  “Aaron—“ she gasped, all her fear in her eyes.

  He framed her face with his hands, a strip of loose tape catching in her tumbled curls, and kissed her. It wasn’t the hard, sexual kiss she expected, but a bittersweet kiss full of wistful apology. It made her want to weep, it made her want to drag him away and make love to him in the hall.

  “Please,” she whispered, “just come with me. I have a bad feeling about this guy. You don’t have anything to prove.”

  “If only that were true, kid,” he said ruefully.

  Tugging the tape free of her hair gently, he tossed it aside and stepped between the ropes. That bravado, that cocky swagger she had grown to love was almost invisible now. He had none of the brash armor of when they’d first met, none of that visceral anger lurking right at the surface. She was both glad he wasn’t constantly on the verge of violence and afraid that this was not the best time to lose his edge. Gritting her teeth, she returned to her camera, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans.

  Hernando Gomez was big, hulking. Usually Aaron fought shorter stocky heavyweights, but everything about Gomez was like a brick wall. Aaron had to win: that was his only conscious thought. If he was going to be trapped, if he was going to be this, a pugilist and nothing more, at least he could be one hell of a fighter. The words of another Irishman came to him then. Time held me, green and dying/and I sang in my chains like the sea. He stood straighter, the melancholy strength surging through him, solemn and steady.

  He feinted and blocked. He tried every footwork move he knew to back away and go around, but the guy kept coming. Aaron couldn’t tire him out, couldn’t dodge him forever, so he moved in. It was aggressive and risky, but he worked his way toward his opponent, smothering him, thwarting his efforts to get in a good blow. Gomez backed away to try to land a good hit. Aaron slipped, dodging to the outside of the man’s powerful right cross so he missed completely. Aaron used the shift in his opponent’s balance to land a left jab into the side of his head. Gomez’s head snapped to the side. Aaron attacked while the man was momentarily stunned, pounding him with barrage. Moving in on him to close range again and fighting on the inside, Aaron mixed body and head punches with a surge of fury. Gomez dropped to his knees, covering his head. Blood trickled from his ear, a cut beside his eye and his mouth.

  Aaron raised both arms in victory, noticing the throbbing in his hands for the first time. His eyes landed on Zoe, who recorded the moment without looking directly at his face. He lifted his face to the hot lights overhead, exalted, trying to take in this moment of glory, the knowledge that he’d won the million. A successful future as an international fighter lay ahead of him. His chest still felt hollow, and he was as sick as if he’d been knocked out. Kyle jumped the ropes and hugged him, shouting and jumping and pumping his fist in the air. Aaron did his best to fake that kind of enthusiasm. He forced a smile. I sang in my chains like the sea, he thought ruefully.

  Archer Lambert joined him in the ring, presenting him with the check and beaming as camera flashes fired and video cameras rolled. The crowd was beside themselves, screaming and pushing forward against the ropes, screaming Aaron’s name. Ring girls draped themselves across Aaron’s bare chest for a promotional photo. He looped his arms around their spandex-clad hips possessively. He tried to catch Zoe’s eye, to make light of it, but she wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t blame her. It felt like a lurid display, like those magazine pictures of girls in bikinis posing on top of hot rods—empty and cheap. He felt ashamed, like he needed to apologize for something.

  When the furor died down after an hour or so, Kyle made his way back to Aaron.

  “You just changed Ma’s life forever, you know. You need to call her, give her the good news.”

  “She saw it. They’re watching it at church.”

  “You are kidding me. The woman has never watched one of our fights.”

  “She did tonight. I’ll call her in the morning and tell her to get an appointment with a specialist. We’ll pay cash.”

  “I’m proud of you, brother,” Kyle said solemnly.

  “Thanks.”

  “Can I talk to you?” Zoe put in.

  “Yeah. Can I shower first?”

  “No. This can’t wait,” she said, taking a deep bracing breath.

  Kyle made himself scarce and Aaron walked a short distance away with her.

  “What’s wrong?” Aaron touched her face solicitously, searching her eyes for what was wrong but her gaze slid away from his. She took a half step back, just to get away from his touch.

  “I just want to congratulate you. It was pretty hard filming it, watching you get the crap beat out of you, but I’m glad it worked out the way you wanted. I hope your mom gets all the help she needs. Tell Kyle he obviously needs to pray the rosary more so he can win.”

  “That sounds like you’re leaving.”

  “I am. I have a film to edit and I’m flying back home,”

  “I thought you weren’t due to fly out until tomorrow night?”

  “Changed my ticket.” she said tightly, fighting back tears.

  “Everything okay?” he asked tentatively, feeling the blow of her leaving and trying to absorb it.

  “Everything is about like I expected it to be. Good luck, Aaron.”

  Zoe stood before him, lower lip trembling, and it nearly brought him to his knees. He could go ten rounds with a legendary knockout champion, but one quiver of her lip and he was undone. Clenching his fists, he made himself nod.

  “Have a safe trip. And thanks. If it weren’t for your video, me and Kyle would’ve never gotten this far.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  She shouldered her equipment bag and walked out. Aaron stood there, gripping the ends of the towel that hung around his neck, watching her leave. It rushed in on him at once, the way she’d chattered about gladiators on the way to the ER, the way she’d held him so hard in the alley, had erased the footage of him talking about his abusive childhood. This was a woman worth fighting for. He took off after her at a slow jog and broke into a run, heading her off at the arena door, shrugging off the congratulatory back slaps of revelers. He caught her sleeve.

  “Zoe, wait! Please!”

  She turned to face him, making no attempt to hide the tear streaks on her face.

  “What?”

  “I don’t want you to go. Stay with me. Please,”

  “You want me to stand around while you go through more ring bunnies, trying to figure out if you’re more than a piece of ass. I stood outside the ropes tonight and watched you get pummeled. I won’t stay on the sidelines and watch your life go by. I’m more than that.”

  Aaron reached for her, kissed her with all the force of his passion, all the fear reeling through his veins at the thought of her leaving. He kissed her until they were both breathless, until the touch of her fingers at the back of his neck made him want to moan with relief.

  “The night I walked you home back in Boston, the night I kissed you. I went out afterward, so frustrated looking for a redhead to pick up and every girl who flirted with me, I
didn’t want any of them. That was when it hit me that I only wanted you,”

  “That’s nice. You dropped me off to go pick up girls,” She sounded hurt.

  “I didn’t think I could have you. I’m still not sure I can. I don’t know if I want to be a fighter. I don’t want to be mad all the time. You’re the only thing I know that I do want.”

  “I have no intention of watching you break collarbones and knock out teeth for the rest of your life,”

  “I won’t. I swear. Just stay with me. I can’t—“

  “You can’t what? Say you have feelings for me? Stick around for more than ten seconds after I slept with you? Talk to a counselor about the anger and try to have a real relationship with me? What? What can’t you do, Aaron?”

  “I can’t let you go. I can do the rest of that. I just can’t let you go. The only possible way for me to see my way clear of this, to have any hope of anything like a life is with you. So don’t make me run through this whole place chasing you, shouting that I love you and you can’t leave me. Because I do. I love you, Zoe,”

  He swept her into his arms, kissed her like she was the only thing that could save his life. Her arms went around him and she kissed him back the same way.

  ***

  Archer Lambert hosted them in a private party at Craven, with champagne flowing and plenty of fawning VIP fans. Aaron couldn’t keep his hands off Zoe, constantly pulling her into his arms or onto his lap, nuzzling her neck or kissing her head.

  “All this luxury is starting to burn my eyes. I’m going to go to bed,” Zoe said.

  “Okay, can I come, too?” he teased.

  “No, I want sleep. Can I bunk in your room?”

  “You better.” He gave her the key and a kiss full on the mouth.

  Kyle clapped him on the back and shook his head.

  “You’re in deep with that one, brother. We have a meeting at seven to sign with Lambert. So I’m giving you my proxy. I intend to get roaring drunk tonight. It’s your job to make sure I hold that pen and sign in the right place to make all our dreams come true. Can you believe it? We’re finally getting our due and signing on for the big time!”

  Simon had offered them a copy of the contract, which allowed them the option of engaging either Aaron alone as a weekly tour fighter or took the two brothers together at a lower pay rate. Aaron knew that he would never take such an opportunity away from Kyle, so it was an easy choice in that way. In another way, he felt like he was drowning. Like he won a million dollars and got the girl and it was maybe the worst thing that had ever happened to him. When he gasped for air he only got lungsful of water.

  He heard his father declaring him fortune’s fool. He heard his mother say she’d pray for his safety and Zoe wince that it was hard to watch him get beaten up in the ring. Then he saw his brother’s face, that brother he’d always longed to be like, the one who was proud of him at last. What were his other options, really? Go back to Mattapan and work at the car wash and talk about his glory days in the ring every night at a bar? If he didn’t want to turn into his father, this was the path—success with a side of hedonism. He poured himself another long drink.

  Around one when Kyle was completely shitfaced and dancing on a table with two waitress kitties, Aaron went out to the balcony to get some air. Everything beneath him was shiny and perfect, a grid of neon flash and the noise of laughter below on the sidewalk punctuating the throbbing club music. The buzz of the city made him feel tired and the air at night wasn’t even cool enough to refresh him. He missed Boston, the harbor, the salt smell of the air, the familiar streets and faces. He was in a palace missing the hellhole he came from. He turned back to the party and found that he had no desire to rejoin it. He felt hollowed out and empty and a little bit old. The idea of fighting every week, travel and training, sent dread uncoiling from his chest. He could pound in people’s faces in thirty different countries probably. Was that his dream?

  Aaron felt sick, the cold sweat of fear coming out on his skin when he thought of bailing, of having to tell Kyle that he wanted to quit. He couldn’t let his brother down, couldn’t throw away his big break—what kind of man did that? Looking at his hands, covered with scars, fresh splits in his knuckles from the fight, and saw that they were shaking. He gripped the rail on the balcony until his knuckles went white. Blood roared in his head and he held on to the rail to stay upright as panic coursed through him. He was afraid to back down, afraid of what that said about him as a man, but he was terrified of signing that paper and choosing something he hated, something that was destroying him. The only thought that crystallized in his panic was that he had to get to Zoe. The thought of her lying in his room became the point of light he moved toward.

  He flung open the doors and surged back through the crowd, escaping into the relative quiet of the hallway and back to his room. Zoe lay sleeping, twisted in the white sheets, and something clenched in his chest. He didn’t hesitate; he just knelt on the bed and gathered her into his arms. She murmured and sniffed and nestled into his chest while he held onto her like the spur of wood that could keep him afloat.

  “I need your help,” he ground the words out.

  Her eyes flew open, shocked by his tone, his pallor.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.

  “I don’t want to fight,” he said raggedly. “I don’t know what else I want besides you. I need you,”

  “You have me. What can I do?”

  “I don’t want to be a fighter any more. Help me,” he managed.

  Zoe found his mouth with hers, pulled him down over her.

  “I’ll do anything you need,” she said, “I’ll help you find a way.”

  Aaron kissed her, his hands blazing hot on her cool skin as he parted her legs. She felt the desperation in his touch and her need matched his. They came together swiftly, in tight hard strokes, clinging together with not so much as an inch of light between their bodies.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, “If I didn’t have you, Zoe—“

  “I have you. I know you’re scared but this is the right thing. I’ll go with you to tell Kyle, I‘ll sneak you out to the airport if you want—anything.”

  “I can’t keep hitting people. I can’t keep letting the anger take over. You have to help me.”

  “I will, Aaron. I will.” She said, kissing him again with tears in her eyes.

  When the alarm went off, Aaron found it hard to disentangle himself from Zoe’s grasp. This was his last safe haven, the final moment before he had to tell Kyle the truth. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, reluctant to leave. Slipping out of bed, he threw on clothes and walked down the hotel hall like a man going to execution. Resolute, he beat on Kyle’s door.

  His brother answered, bloodshot eyes in his head and a curse in his mouth, a waitress in his bed. “What?”

  “We have to talk. About the contract.”

  “I know you wouldn’t cut me out.” There was a warning in his voice.

  “Never. That’s not it. Come on. Let’s go to the gym.”

  In minutes, Kyle was dressed and they were on side-by-side treadmills. It was easier to talk while they worked out. Something about the movement focused him, Aaron thought.

  “I don’t want to be a fighter anymore. I don’t want this contract. We can walk away with the million dollars, help Ma, and leave this behind.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Did we not just work for this our entire lives?”

  “You did. I wanted to be like you and maybe, I don’t know, I guess I worked to be something better than Dad.”

  “Dad was a piece of shit who left our mother. Forget him.”

  “I’ve been punching him out for years. Every time I’m in the ring, that’s who I’m fighting, Kyle. But the pain doesn’t go anywhere. I’m still mad as hell, and this isn’t helping.”

  “You really don’t want to fight anymore?”

  “It’s not just I don’t want to. I don’t think I can.”

&
nbsp; “Is it this girl? Has she put you up to quitting?”

  “No. It isn’t, but if you say ‘bros before hos’ I may punch you once for old times’ sake.”

  “Would I ever say anything that crude?”

  “You taught me every dirty limerick in the world by the time I was seven. I got my mouth washed out by a pair of nuns with mustaches, Kyle. So, yeah. You would.”

  Kyle chuckled at the memory and shook his head. “Well, fuck. I guess we’re not fighting then.”

  “You mean it?”

  “I stand with my brother. Always have. I got you into boxing, and I guess I’ll follow you out.”

  Aaron engulfed his big brother in a fierce hug. “Kyle Xavier Dolan, you are your mother’s son at heart,” Aaron said.

  “All right, Aaron Francis. Ease up on the sentiment,” Kyle said, shoving him away good-naturedly.

  “I’m going to tell Zoe we’re turning it down. I’ll meet you outside the penthouse suite.”

  “I’m going back to sleep. You enjoy your epiphany, figure out what you’re going to do with your life.”

  CHAPTER 12: AARON

  Back in his hotel room, he shook Zoe awake. “I need to talk to you!” he said in a low, urgent voice.

  “If you’re breaking up with me, it can wait till dawn. Seriously.” She rolled away from him and covered her head with the pillow.

  “This is big, Zoe. Come on.”

  “Wait, are you pregnant?” she demanded, popping up in bed. “Because it’s not mine. It’s probably one of the strippers’ or the ring bunnies or…”

  “We can go over my sexual history later. This is important. I just talked to Kyle and…I’m not going to fight anymore.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I came to the conclusion that I’m more than just a piece of ass.”