The Fight Within

by Laveen, Tiana

  “Nice body kick, Sean! Fuckin’ A!” someone screamed out.

  How barbaric…and she hated that she loved it all at once. He was a damn animal…

  Her mouth twisted in warped pleasure at the notion.

  Ecstatic and turned on at the same time, her knees must have gotten weaker than those of Sean’s felled opponent. The popcorn started to roll off the top of her head, her snack crown landing on her lap. She felt careful fingertips in her tresses, as if she were being pruned, treated with the utmost tender care.

  “Sorry.” Colin smiled as he sat back down beside her, removing his buttery grub from her person, one tiny fragment at a time.

  “That’s okay. You got a little excited is all.” She grinned.

  “So, you’re Treasure!” He nodded in her direction, then looked back at the ring for a second or two. They witnessed the giant getting back on his feet while Sean danced about, waiting to get back into the rhythm of the thing.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling up at him. “I’m Treasure. It’s nice to meet you, Colin. Sean has told me so much about you.” She threw on her professional voice as a simple default, but wasn’t sure how much longer that could last in such an atmosphere.

  “Yeah…he talks about cha all the time. He told me you’d be sitting over here, in this row and seat, so I tried to make sure to get next to ya.” The guy nodded after his own declaration, then casually glanced down at her cleavage. He hung around there in boob-land for a second or two too long, then made a leisurely retreat to shift his attention back to the ring.

  I see they are more similar than I’d like… She smirked.

  “Ohhhhhhh!!!!” The crowd gasped as Sean lost his balance, ducking away from what she presumed was a back kick. He’d given her a crash course in the sport over the past few days, and though she still felt rather clueless, it definitely helped to explain some of the maneuvers she was currently witnessing.

  Maneuvers…what a nice and tidy way to phrase that, Sean. It’s more like death blows!

  “Sean has only lost one fight.” Colin leaned in close to her, a smile on his face as he bragged on his little brother, pumping him up, though inflation was definitely not needed. “Did you know that?”

  “No.” Grinning wide, she shook her head. Sean had kept hush-hush about his impressive track record. “He never told me that. He’s been real modest about it, actually.”

  Colin nodded and went back to staring at her. The man had the type of look as if he could see through people, dissect them on the spot, pull their card, have their number and be onto them in a second flat. He regarded her with such intensity, she clutched the fabric of her shirt, wound it around her hand like one of her baby’s bandages… feeling vulnerable, just like with the psychic.

  “Am I making ya uncomfortable?” he asked, seemingly taking notice of her stiffened body language.

  She laughed nervously, turned back toward Sean and Quadruped Man, then looked back toward the guy, still mulling over whether to be honest about his query or not.

  “A little…”

  They both loudly chuckled together.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just, damn…he was right. You’re really beautiful.”

  “Awww, thank you, Colin.”

  “Yeah, you’re welcome, and he thinks the world of ya, okay? He’s crazy about you. Anyone that makes my brother happy makes me happy.” He pointed to himself. “He’s been through a lotta shit, ya know…”

  She could see the concern in the man’s baby blues, dotted with a small warning, enfolded in brotherly love, and gift-wrapped in sparkling sincerity. After taking a second or two to contain herself, she lightly patted the man’s hand, then calmly gripped it.

  “Colin, I love Sean with all my heart.” They stared at one another for a while, ignoring the wild crowd, and drifting into a tiny world that only the two of them existed in. “He is the first man I’ve dated in a very long time that allowed me to be myself, and didn’t want anything except the best for me… I won’t do anything to cause him harm, I promise.”

  The guy immediately softened at her words. “Thanks, that’s all I needed to hear.” He brandished a half-grin and stroked her hand before slipping his fingers from her gentle grip.

  “Ahhhhhh!!!!” The crowd got to their feet again, and Treasure followed suit.

  “I can’t see a damn thing!” she complained as she teeter-tottered on her tippy toes, biting into her lip. Her frustration mounted with each torturous second that passed. Colin pointed at a screen off to the side that showcased the bloody scene below. It was hard to completely see, but it surely helped. And then, she almost wished she hadn’t seen a damn thing!

  She gasped when she caught sight of what played out before her. Sean had grabbed the fiend in a headlock and tossed him to the ground as if he weighed nothing. The audience screamed with pleasure at the sadistic scene. The bell chimed and both men went to their respective corners, bloodied, bruised, looking damn near half dead.

  The vultures should be spiraling overhead soon…

  Her heart thumped in her chest; she had no idea how someone so loving and fun could enjoy getting the pulp beaten out of him, then return the damn favor… She was in love with a stranger, and yet, in her heart, she knew every detail of the man. He kept nothing back from her, even shit she’d prefer to not hear…like how he used to masturbate four times a day religiously as a teenager—hell, even as a grown man. He didn’t mind sharing shit like that. No, Sean was no stranger…but he sure was strange.

  “Sean won the first round,” Colin whispered in her ear, stealing her from her thoughts. “He trained hard for this guy. Vernon doesn’t lose easy.”

  Treasure offered a nervous smile and nodded in understanding.

  This Vernon person needs to lose all that hair clustered all over his back. Looks like a lacefront wig hanging from his damn shoulders… disgusting.

  Sean slumped against the ropes while two men surrounded him. One spoke close to his face, his long nose almost bumping into Sean’s cheek. The other took care of pouring water from a bottle into his gaping mouth in rapid speed. A few moments later, both men had resumed their stances in the center of the ring, ready to go head to head once again. Treasure’s chest swelled with renewed worry, yet, she couldn’t turn away. Muscular legs and arms began to move in swift motion every damn where as if attached to some invisible Ferris wheel. Her gut sank when she watched Sean take a brutal beating, this one longer than the last and then, he gave one, too…just as ferocious.

  As her Love’s limbs moved like a tornado, she could almost feel his rage through each heated blow. Though he seemed miles away from her, he seemed so close, too. She could smell his anxiety, the purge, the continuous overdosing on large, sticky vials filled to the brim with liquefied self-protection, poured out as sweat down his handsome, strong-featured face. How could one man be so simple, yet so complicated? As the fight continued, her heart seized up with fresh revelations and understanding, an epiphany of sorts…

  I know why he does this now… I know!

  She looked at Colin, but the man paid her no attention as he shouted and bounced about. She grinned wide at her discovery, wanting nothing more than to declare it to someone…but she’d simply have to settle for her own self, and that was truly good enough.

  …I know why you do this now, Sean. It’s a stress reliever on so many levels…

  He was good at it, damn good at it, and it allowed her baby to pour some of his pent up energy and frustration into something else, not keep it all bottled within. The man was a beast that wore a smile, but inside he wanted to tear the fucking world apart…and worst as well as best of all, he damn well knew it.

  I’m so proud of you, baby…

  She smiled inwardly as she continued to watch, made herself stand straight and not flinch. She moved around the crowd, desperate for live shots of the man, occasionally checking the television for perspective views, too. She refused to hide, to flinch, to close her eyes. He loved this, and she wanted
to see it, not miss a thing. She didn’t care if he lost, though he’d pout all night if he did. She smiled at the image in her mind, envisioning how he’d act like a big baby, and she’d have to comfort him…fuck him to sleep, make it all better.

  “Yeeeessss!” Colin jumped again from his seat, furiously clapping after Sean administered another limber high kick. From the instant replay, she saw how Sean’s damn foot practically wrapped around the back of the fucker’s head! Her baby was incredible…

  “Another back kick! And another!” Colin screamed and cheered. After another minute or two, Sean’s biggest cheerleader changed his damn tune. “Awwwww man! Goddamn it! He’s not blocking well! What are ya doing, target practice?! Elbow?! You let him get that in?! What the hell is wrong with you?!…Ahhhh! Sean!” The man chastised his brother with abandon and little care, tough loving the guy into a world of shame. And then, she heard a sound no woman in love with a fighter wants to hear… The crowd bowed down, hissing and gasping.

  “What’s going on?!” she yelled. Her heart grew wings and took flight, flapping like a butterfly trapped in an empty jam jar on a schoolhouse windowsill.

  “Damn…” She barely heard the man speak. She looked at the monitors, feeling a pain in her chest, and braced to watch the replay.

  Colin seemed taken aback by a brutal low kick his little brother endured. The crowd continued to boo and gasp. Standing on tiptoes, she saw her man go down, sucking in air, before stammering back to his feet. The crowd lit up with applause at his recovery, while he gritted through the pain, the torment, the sweet relief of it all…

  Oh yes, that had to have hurt! Why does he do this?!

  Fueled by fresh anxiety, she suddenly forgot she’d solved that puzzle moments ago. The damn monster in that ring seemed hell bent on rearranging Sean’s face and placing him in a body cast.

  “Shit! Sean!” Colin chastised. “Get it together!” he roared over the large, amped up crowd. With her vision slightly impaired from the bouncing mob, she could hardly tell what was happening anymore. The monitor offered no live feed. Was someone playing some cruel joke on her? Whatever happened, it elicited an all out frenzy for the announcer was yelling something about, ‘roundhouse kick’ and ‘superman punch.’

  “Fuuuck yeeeaah!!! Woo hoooo!” Colin cheered, his big body swaying from side to side like a cluster of tree branches in a wicked storm. He glanced quickly at Treasure, suddenly realizing she couldn’t see a damn thing. Without notice, he picked her up and put her on his shoulders, drawing out a shriek from her. She laughed so loudly and uncontrollably, she almost fell into the lunging, cursing crowd.

  “You see ’im?!” Colin yelled.

  “Yeah! Sean is standing, and the other guy is just kinda lying there.”

  “Yeah, that’s ’cause my brother beat his motherfucking ass!!! That damn bastard is knocked out cold!” he yelled proudly as the referee grabbed Sean’s arm and placed it high in the air.

  Colin gingerly placed her back on the ground, then clapped and whistled, jamming two fingers in his mouth, cheering his brother on with full gusto.

  “Three full rounds, a flying elbow and a superman! He whooped that motherfucker’s ass! That’s my goddamn brother right there! Woooooo!!!!” He stomped around as if doing some sort of jig, making her giggle so. “Irish pride, baby!!!” He yelled so hard and loud, the vein on the side of his neck strained under his pale flesh. He faced the crowd, turning from side to side so everyone in that place would hear him. “That’s my motherfucking brother, Sean motherfucking Mahoney! Remember his name, damn it!” he roared.

  Treasure shook her head and burst out laughing at his pumped up behavior.

  A few moments later, a large fella covered in sweat and blood was standing beside her. She recognized those gorgeous green eyes, despite one swelling up like a pumped balloon and the other donning an odd pink hue. He hoisted her in his strong arms and landed a kiss upon her lips as she buried her fingers in his damp hair. Closing her eyes, she savored his heated affections, his raw masculine scent rubbing against her clothing, leaving his claim upon her.

  “I won,” he panted between lip locks, staring at her through hooded eyes that called her damn name. “I won, baby.”

  Colin patted his brother’s back and looked over the two, but gave them space. Others didn’t have the same courtesies in mind…

  Soon, a crowd surrounded him, pushing papers toward him to sign and cheering him on like he was the second coming of Christ. It left her in complete awe… She could see on his face, this was part of who he was. This was the one place where he could fall apart, act like an animal, and get away with the shit. It was the one setting in the entire world where being bad meant being good, and being called a brute proved a compliment.

  “I won, baby,” he repeated, as if he’d gotten one too many lumps to the head…forgotten that he’d already announced it to her twice in the last sixty seconds. “But…” People started to push through, pulling them apart. Hands gripped his clammy flesh and young, excited faces talked around them. The place swelled with some sort of strange, sports-crazed pride. She could barely hear or make out what he was saying as the gap between their bodies grew bigger and bigger.

  “But the big prize was you! Thanks for comin’! I love you, baby!” he yelled out, then smiled wide and winked at her before turning away to grab one of the ink pens from someone’s waving hand. In that moment, he undoubtedly made some teenage boy’s dream come true with a sleight of hand; but unbeknown to him, he’d also made a grown woman’s heart crack open and fill up with the sunlight rays of his magnificent love, his twisted, though therapeutic sense of humor, and his strong, deep embrace that still left her skin tingling, many moments after they’d parted ways. The man was filthy rich with love, and he’d given her his last dime. She’d be careful not to spend it…

  …And she loved him for it, for she was dating a billionaire with a heart made of pure gold…

  *

  Jackson sat at his massive custom-made cherry wood desk in his home. The semi-darkened room filled with thick Cuban cigar smoke and the intoxicating aroma of the last remnants of a warm glass of imported cognac. It was his third to be exact, and he had plans for a fourth. He hadn’t smoked in months, but now, he toyed with inebriation as his dry lips grew looser. He wanted to say some shit, tell the world how he really fucking felt. Yearned to be like Treasure, free to curse a bastard out, for he was a prisoner to his sensibilities and he never even figured out he’d been imprisoned. The woman walked and talked like an emancipated slave, and it stung him to his core that her transformation had begun as soon as he stepped foot out of their home with his bags in tow, and her slamming the door in his face.

  Yes…his thoughts drifted back to the first woman he’d ever felt something for—the one he knew was going to make a faithful man of him. How could he resist the self-made, sweet woman with enough street sense to be a tangible dream and enough beauty to make many men stop in their damn tracks, plot and scheme to have her?

  Treasure…

  She was a bit old-fashioned, ladylike in many ways, unaware how beautiful she was, and that made her all the more alluring. She’d had a rough time as a child, the experiences making her vulnerable… sweet… irresistible, for she wanted a man to make it alright, make it better. Best of all, she’d never asked him for a damn thing. She wasn’t needy… But the older she got, the more she questioned him, the more inquisitive she became, and the more they argued. She was no longer the girl he’d met in college. Treasure had morphed into a person who wanted some goddamn answers. He gave her none, told her to mind her damn business, accept the money and gifts…be quiet. And in a way, she did.

  Until she was turned to damn stone.

  He barely recognized her, but at the same time, he knew this softer side of her still dwelled within her. She’d simply buried it, tried to fit the soccer mom role…but Treasure was a survivor. Life started off fair enough for her, but that all came crashing down once her father died. She ro
amed the streets with her mother and brothers like a nomad. They had no family; everyone was dead or living in other states, and no one offered to help, lifted a damn finger. Nobody wanted to take in a grown woman, two badass boys and a little girl with an occasional sassy ass mouth who questioned authority and had gotten in trouble for shoplifting.

  She’d done it because was hungry…

  He shook his head as his mind glossed over the damn story. Treasure had been so embarrassed. At fifteen, she’d ended up in police custody with two bags of uncooked navy beans in her front jeans pockets, a frozen bag of peas in her coat, and a small pack of ham lunchmeat in her back pocket. That hunger had remained inside the woman…a thirst, a drive. She covered it with pretty drapes, plush imported rugs, and exquisite hand crafted lamps from India. She made it comely, almost disappear, but he knew it never left her. And the very thing that had drawn him to the woman had eventually turned him away.

  “Treasure, baby.” He picked up his glass and sloshed the contents around a bit before taking another sip. He stared down into the thing, drowning in contemplations that threatened to choke him dead. “Nobody’s perfect…but you were the perfect wife. I fucked up!” He laughed maniacally, slapped the table and rocked back and forth in his chair as Al Green serenaded him real low…

  Let’s Stay Together…

  “I’m soooo in love with yoooou!” he sang off key.

  “Damn! My granddad used to love this song! He’d play this shit all throughout Harlem, yeeeeaaaah!” he slurred, bobbing his head to the tune, rockin’ in his seat, really getting down.