Paradise Fought: Abel

by L. B. Dunbar

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” my coach warned me. Taking me on was a risk. It was practically unheard of to have a coach of this caliber: the lack of proven experience. We were both inexperienced, but I was assured I had skill. I was encouraged that I could do this. I was motivated to try.

  “You got this,” Shepherd said. “You can take him.”

  I listened and absorbed the words through every cell of my skin.

  We walked the short hall. The warehouse was an abandoned factory where computers were once produced. In the heart of Silicon Valley, the number of computer producers and distributors were many. The abandoned places were few and far between, but this one was near campus. The last minute call went out. The place was packed. The energy echoed in the once empty space. Tonight would be original: a first time fighter against a favorite.

  “Spider” had a reputation. He was an unpredictable fighter, earning his name from arms and legs that seemed uncontrolled in a fight. The arrangement was simple, someone toward the top against an unknown at the bottom. It would knock me out of this category and set me in a lower class, if he won. However, I would not let him have what I desired. I was at the low end of the middle weight. At 190 pounds, I just made the cut, but this was the class I wanted to be in. I was tall for a fighter, standing six-four, but I was fast. I could outmaneuver a smaller man who was solid, and Spider was lean like me.

  I entered the roped off ring to cheers for Spider. I’d learned to ignore the sound of others. They were the same cheers I’d heard for another fighter. I became excellent at selective hearing. I knew how to turn inward, practice the skill of mind control, to center myself. My name was called without much attention.

  “And in this corner, Bayyyyy – ttttta.” The name wasn’t as strong as Spider, but it had meaning. Bettas were warriors, and so was I.

  The fight began. With a crushing blow to the midsection, I was stunned into action. While I stumbled back with the first contact, it ignited my passion to crush him. His fist connected with my eye and the pain shot through my cheek like a lightning bolt. Spots of silver danced before me as a fist connected with my ribs. Spider had earned his reputation well. While I had practiced and reviewed a tape, my mind lost focus and his body parts whirled over mine. Three minutes were up and we separated.

  “Don’t give in, Betta,” Shepherd coached. “Center. He’s your mirrored image. Weak. Meek. But out to beat you. Don’t let it happen.” Using my father’s words against me was encouragement.

  We returned to the center. Despite the radiating pain in my midsection and the throbbing sting in my cheek, I had speed. I reminded myself to use it. I had stamina. I could dance and dodge, while he worked his ass off to get me. In his exhaustion, I struck. A left hook to the ribs, right uppercut to his nose and blood sprayed between us. The crunch of bone echoed in my ears.

  I could do this, I coached.

  Spider was a courageous fighter. He caught me off guard again when I tried to predict one move and another happened. I went down.

  “Get up,” Shepherd yelled. It was the only voice I allowed into my head.

  I stood slowly.

  “Going down again, newbie,” Spider spit. My anger surged. I could not go down. This could not end before it began. My body spun and I jabbed with my left. Spider crumbled when my fist connected with his already fragile nose. The count was called and the match was over. I stared down at my opponent in wonder. I’d won. I’d actually done it. The euphoric high of victory shot through me. The arms of Shepherd embraced me from behind, and my wrist was lifted into the air to signal a winner.

  There were groans from those who lost the gamble, and a few cheers from those who bet on me. My name was mixed in the rumble, but I only wanted one person to recognize me. I searched for her in the crowd. She had to be there. For him. On the perimeter of the ring, I saw her. Her eyes met mine, but they were glazed. Once again, she wasn’t seeing me.

  The past Friday night had been a disaster, so I wasn’t surprised to find Elma ignoring me on Monday morning. As I sat in my auditorium seat before class, I recalled the awkwardness as I felt it that night.

  Elma stepped back and I moved in front of her when Thor entered his room.

  “You,” Thor groaned.

  “Me,” I replied.

  Elma looked between us in confusion, but it didn’t matter. Instantly, Thor pushed past us both and entered his room. He held an almost empty bottle of Jack in his hands. I had shifted so my back was to the open entrance.

  “Get your own room. And get your own girl,” Thor slurred.

  “Get your own bottle,” I replied. It was a lame response and I knew it. I could sense my transformation from the confident man, pressing Elma against the door, to the dorky guy Elma wished to avoid earlier. I didn’t understand what had happened. I was suddenly clumsy.

  “I’ll take the Jack,” I said, reaching out for the bottle and easily removing it from Thor’s hands. He was drunk. It was evident in the way he swayed and the slur of his words. The last thing he needed was another pull from that bottle.

  “And I’ll take the queen,” he garbled, catching me unaware and shoving me backwards. His arms slipped around Elma’s waist as I fell into the hallway. The door slammed in my face, and I heard Elma giggle on the other side. My blood chilled. The door clicked to lock. Despite myself, I banged on it, calling out Elma’s name. My pleas were met by another round of laughter and a shattered ego. I threw the remainder of the bottle at the end of the hall, and it smashed against the cheap wall. Leaving the mess for the owner and his roommate, I left the party how I entered. Alone.

  So Monday morning, I wasn’t shocked to find Elma enter human anatomy moments before it started and sit near Thor. He wasn’t actually paying attention to her, but he did acknowledge her presence. He wasn’t attentive, but he leaned over and copied the notes she took in class. I hadn’t written down a single thing. I was too angered by her snubbing me to concentrate.

  Thor sported a black eye and yellowed skin on his neck. He didn’t seem as cocky as he had on Friday. The evidence of a fight was apparent, but his attitude remained strong. He was full of himself. I heard rumors that he took his opponent in one round. His eye roamed over me when he exited class, but he didn’t speak to me. Neither did Elma.

  I followed them into the hall, where Thor casually placed his arm around Elma and escorted her out of the science building. My body cringed as I’d lost her.

  Creed caught up with me in La Cantina for lunch. Campus food wasn’t the best, but it was an easy fix as our townhome was a mile or so away. My classes were too close together on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for me to return home. We sat at a table in the back, where we could talk freely. I tugged at my baseball cap as an additional shield against everyone in the cafeteria.

  “You got it bad, don’t you?” Creed said looking around the open space to find Elma in a booth with Thor in the direction I stared.

  “Nah. She ignores me.” I took a bite of my sandwich but hardly tasted it. Nothing had flavor the past few days.

  “What’s up with her? You ditched me the other night to talk to her.”

  “It’s nothing,” I replied, nonchalantly.

  “She’s Elma Montgomery. It’s not nothing,” Creed admonished, looking over his shoulder in the general direction of Thor and Elma.

  “She’s with Thor,” I shrugged, sitting back in my seat and pushing my food basket away from me on the table.

  “You want her, right? You need to figure out something. Some way to get to her.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll figure out something.” I had Elma’s address and I could confront her there, but I was hopeful she would come to me. We’d had a moment. I knew she felt it. Maybe what she did with Thor negated it afterward, but I was certain she was with me in the moment. I just needed another moment.

  On Thursday night, my brother summoned me. I say summoned because he wasn’t calling and asking, he was demanding I meet him. Par for the course, he requested a seedy s
trip joint just west of campus. The neon pink sign was garish as was the gravel drive way that was packed with cars. I don’t know how he knew of this place. He lived outside Vegas.

  I found him at a table for four, although his presence filled the empty spaces. He was sipping his drink as he eyed the scantily clad woman performing on stage. I wasn’t even certain if performance was the correct word for the gyration and thrusting she did to blistering pop music, but I wasn’t there for a show.

  “Cain,” I addressed him.

  “Abel,” he said into the glass that was raised to his lips. Amber liquor poured into his mouth after he spoke. In one sharp swallow, the glass emptied and he slammed it on the table.

  “Drink?” he questioned. I passed. We were silent for a moment.

  Cain and I weren’t close, in your typical way, for brothers only two years apart. He had been my protector and my shield, but it kept a wedge between us. He didn’t have to step in, but somehow he felt he did. He took the blame for things that weren’t his fault and took the blows that went with the punishment. He was hard. He took that negative energy and turned it on in the ring. It made him a champion.

  “I need a favor,” he spoke, dryly, not taking his eyes from the girl on stage. My eyes hadn’t left him. I didn’t want to see the jiggle and jutting of tassels and thong. She was a shapely girl, too shapely. The room was somber despite the display. The music blared on.

  “What do you need?”

  Regardless of the distance between us, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Cain. I owed him, as my older brother. I felt the obligation as he felt one toward me. I never understood why. He was stronger, that I knew. But why he did it, why he took it, was always beyond me.

  “I’m looking for a girl.”

  I snorted. He had to be kidding. He could have any girl he wanted. In fact, I was certain the girl on display would please him if he wished. Girls were not an issue for him, like they were for me.

  He turned on me and hard dark eyes paralyzed me. That was the thing about Cain, he had earned his name. Cobra. Those eyes froze me solid. Hypnotized, I didn’t move without his direction. My laughter was seized and my throat constricted as I held my breath. I shouldn’t have laughed. He was serious.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “How can I help?” It took strength to speak. Cain’s forceful glare was paralyzing.

  “She’s a senior at Preston. She was abroad in the fall, but she should be back with the new semester. I need you to find her for me.”

  I stared at him. Disbelief was the emotion inside me. Why couldn’t he find her himself? I wondered. He could have anyone he wanted. Before I could ask that obvious question, he answered me.

  “I don’t want her to know I’m looking. I just want to know where she is. How she is.”

  Cain slid me a piece of paper with a name. It was so mysterious, like a spy movie or something, and I wanted to laugh again. It was like we were playing a game, only he wasn’t horsing around. His serious expression proved it. I’d never heard of the girl. As he said, she was a year older. Preston was a large university.

  “I know she’s studying to be a doctor and she took human anatomy last year. That’s all I have.”

  There was something in Cain’s voice that let me know he was in earnest. He wanted to find this one.

  “Why her?” I questioned.

  “She’s…I have my reasons,” he stammered and faced the stage again. He’d raised his hand to signal another drink, but the waitress hadn’t approached yet. My eyes drifted to the stage as well. A new song filled the space. It was slightly older, sultry, and sinful. It made you want to have sex and so did the backside of the dancer on stage. She wiggled one way then dragged her ass back. She shyly peered over her shoulder with a hat shielding her eyes. When the music shifted, she spun and strutted to the pole at the edge of the stage. Tossing off the hat, blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and I stood instantly.

  “Elma,” I groaned. Her attention turned to the darkened crowd, but she didn’t miss a beat. She wore a vest, with apparently nothing underneath, and high cut panties that bared half her ass cheeks. The men around me sat up at greater attention. Sin was on display, and they were interested in her performance.

  “You know this one?” I could hear the smirk in my brother’s tone. My blood flowed cold to think he knew her, too.

  “Do you?” I bit, turning to look at him. A rare smile had tweaked his lips. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched the display before us. A thick finger tapped on the new glass of amber liquid while he contemplated his answer.

  “I’ve heard of her.” The corners of his eyes pinched.

  “What did you hear?” I growled. My brother’s expression dropped and he turned to me again.

  “She’s good. Dances here a few nights a week.”

  “But how do you know her?” I was still standing, but now I was leaning over the table. My hands were braced on the hard surface as I pressed forward, closing in on Cain’s space. He still sat casually back in his chair. One ankle crossed over a knee as his attention returned to the show.

  “I don’t,” he sighed, in a rare moment of defeat. I exhaled in evident relief and pushed off the table exaggeratedly.

  “Thank God,” I mumbled.

  “Why?” Cain’s dark eyes focused on me a second time.

  “I…I know her,” I lied. I didn’t really know anything about Elma. Every turn was something new. The tuition. Thor. The dancing. Everything was a shock.

  “You know who she is?” Cain stared. “Does she know who you are?”

  I wasn’t sure what Cain was implying, but I took my chances at honesty this time.

  “She knows nothing about me.”

  “Hhmmm…” Cain responded, facing Elma again. His fingers gently stroked up and down on the glass at hand. I was suddenly thirsty myself. I needed something strong.

  “Maybe you should introduce me,” Cain muttered.

  The music ended, but I reached for him. In an unprecedented move, I grabbed his shirt and tugged it. He didn’t budge, but he stared at me.

  “You’ll stay away from her.” I paused a beat. “Besides, don’t you want the other girl?”

  His eyes shifted to that poisonous brown glare, then his mouth curled up on one side.

  “You’re surprising me, little brother. Maybe I don’t know you either, after all.”

  I let go of him with a shove at the term of endearment, which was a reminder of my place. I was behind Cain. I was the shadow. He was the star.

  Suddenly, a large, burly man in black stood next to the table.

  “Everything okay?” the voice asked. I looked up to face Kursch, my brother’s body guard.

  “Everything’s fine, Uncle K,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I should have known that Cain’s second skin wasn’t far behind. He didn’t make a move without Kursch’s protection. Unfortunately, my moves would be reported to my father. I couldn’t think about that at present. Elma was leaving the stage after she’d been approached by a man seated at a table near the front.

  Racing to the side door, where I assumed backstage was, I was met with the resistance of another large man, who refused my admittance.

  “Let him through.” The deep voice of Kursch behind me surprised me. I glanced over my shoulder to get a nod of approval. The black man stepped back, warning me I had five minutes.

  I found Elma in one.

  “Abel, what are you doing here?” she sighed, looking around the dressing room, which contained four other girls, barely clothed. I reached for a robe and draped it over Elma’s shoulders.

  “I’m going to ask you the same thing,” I snapped. She was reapplying some lipstick that made her lips a tempting bright red. The robe covered her shoulders, but her breasts still begged to be released from the vest.

  “I work here,” she said into the mirror, avoiding my glare and tracing the edge of her lip to fix a smudge.

  “No, you don’t,” I barked.
“Not any longer.”

  That had her attention and she stood up, letting the robe fall.

  “Excuse me?” she demanded. My eyes were distracted as her hands went to her hips and her breasts strained against the tight vest. Not to mention, legs were on display below lace panties I hadn’t noticed were so sheer and left not much to the imagination.

  “Elma,” I groaned. “Get dressed. I’m taking you home.”

  “You are doing no such thing,” she squawked. “I’m on again in fifteen. I need this job. To pay you back, I might add.”

  “No,” I bit again. “Not like this.” I reached for her arm, but she pulled back. She also stepped back, and I rounded the makeup desk that separated us.

  “You quit.” I stretched toward her.

  “I do not,” she demanded again, holding her ground, hands on hips, but her expression had changed. Her face faltered. I was close enough to feel the brush of her breasts against my chest. She took a deep breath in her agitation and her breasts rose and fell against me. I wasn’t certain I could phrase a coherent sentence as the tender touch of her distracted me.

  “I’m not leaving,” she said, snapping me out of my fantasy of ripping the vest wide and cupping each tempting breast until she begged me by name to suck them hard.

  “Yes, you are,” I said, pressing firmly against her. Her hands reached back for the surface of the station behind her. I leaned forward and placed my hands over hers. Her back arched. My pelvis region curved. I was against her in a most dangerously, delicious way.

  “I can’t quit,” she breathed softly onto my face.

  “You will,” I implied, as I gently nudged forward, letting my excitement rest against her.

  “I…” she moaned at the sensation. Her voice faltered. “You don’t own me, Abel.”

  I knew this. I didn’t want to own her, but I also didn’t want her working here.

  “I feel another rule coming on,” I teased sarcastically.

  “Rule four…thou cannot dictate my work.”

  I laughed lightly against her.

  “I can’t watch others covet my…” my voice trailed off.