by L. B. Dunbar
“I’m getting ice,” I said, attempting to reassure her. “I’ll be right back.” Whether she released me, or I was able to break free of her didn’t matter, I pulled back and exited her room for the kitchen. An empty bottle of vodka and two glass tumblers sat on the small Formica table. A chair was toppled over, lying on its side on the scuffed linoleum floor. Once again, I stared around me and wondered: How did this become my life?
Lindee Parks was my best friend. She and I would have been roommates, had I been able to afford the room. Our three person apartment remained empty in one room as I couldn’t take the space when I moved my mother to California. A girl was supposed to move in at the start of the fall semester. She went abroad immediately, so her room only stored her stuff until the spring semester started in January. I hadn’t met her yet. Lindee’s cousin, Maggie, was her other roommate.
When Montana died, Lindee’s world collapsed for a different reason. She’d been in love with him. She seemed to be rebuilding better than I was, however. Perhaps, it was because she had only lost him. As childhood friends, Lindee had wealth in excess of me. Part of Vegas royalty, she had a large home with a tennis court, a custom landscaped pool, a multi-car garage, and a helicopter. We knew almost everything about one another. What we shared in common were our secrets.
Her lust for my brother had been one of them, until one day she acted on it. It should have divided our friendship, but I loved her like a sister. What was difficult was trusting my brother. He was a famous fighter. Women craved him. They lusted after him in a different way than Lindee had. She had loved him. I didn’t believe he was faithful to her, though. I think in her heart she didn’t believe it either. What might have made him all the more enticing was her parents’ disapproval. An older man by seven years, who was a fighter, was not acceptable dating material for the daughter of the Parks, owners of The Belfast, a large hotel and casino on the strip in Vegas. Lindee enjoyed the fact she got away with seeing Montana when we went to college. She might have loved breaking the rules of her parents’ more than she actually loved him.
On the other hand, Lindee hadn’t dated since Montana died in late spring. She claimed she wasn’t ready. She also hadn’t returned to the fight. She’d been present when it happened. She said she couldn’t face it. The fights had a certain aggression to them that Lindee had trouble reconciling with after Montana’s death. She was sweet where my brother was hard. The physical blows made her flinch, but my brother encouraged her presence. He flew her to events on occasion.
I didn’t want to pressure her, but I needed Lindee to go with me. I needed to try to get closer to Thor, and after a fight would be the perfect time to talk with him. He’d be pumped up and potentially interested in my plan. My suggestion might seem crazy, except to someone in the circuit. I had a feeling Thor would understand what I proposed. He had a big ego. While there had been rumors of an up and coming fighter named Betta, Thor was a sure bet.
I gently asked Lindee to attend with me. She didn’t need to know my goal. I figured it was best to formulate my plan, and then clue her in after I had my answers.
“Lindee, I really want you to go with me. I need a wing girl,” I teased.
“You’ve never needed one before,” my petite, brunette friend laughed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “Didn’t you go to the first fight with Keli and her group?” Lindee added with sarcasm. Lindee and I had diverse friends, but one group she disapproved of most was Keli Hogan. Loud mouthed, Keli had a reputation long and large for what her mouth could do. I had gone to the fight with her posse of friends, only in hopes of gaining Thor’s attention. It had worked. He noticed me with the girls, although his focus roamed from one girl to the next. His initial interest waned, and someone else relieved him of his tension that night.
“It’s not the same without you,” I pleaded, knowing that for Lindee, the fight would never be the same. She’d lost my brother there, but so had I. I needed answers, and then I desired to avenge. Someone was destined to pay.
“Why are you trying to get back into this? When Montana died, I thought it would be a new start for you.” Lindee’s voice was hesitant. She knew we’d lost everything. She also knew that when I left for college, I wanted a new life. I didn’t want to be just Montana’s little sister. I wanted to be me. The break was easier to make when we were at school, but when I was home, people recognized me. When we were at the fights, fans knew who my mother and I were. People did things for me and my mother because of Montana.
After his death, only a few remained loyal. His manager helped us iron out the financial fiasco that Montana had left us. His trainer checked in daily, until my mother blamed him for not taking care of her son. Montana’s coach was my mother’s first sexual mistake post-Montana. He was almost as distraught as her at the loss of him.
“I just want some answers, Lindee.”
She stared at me with her almond colored eyes. We’d hardly disagreed, but when Montana died, I was angry. I was convinced he was dead on purpose. He was killed. Lindee didn’t agree. Over time, she came to the conclusion that it happens; fighters can die in the ring. I, however, was not satisfied. I believed Montana had been set up. I believed his death was intentional. I wanted revenge.
“We already have answers, Elma. Let it go. Please,” she pleaded, twisting in her desk chair. She’d been facing her books, rubbing lotion on her arms, while I spoke from my seat on her bed. The coroner’s investigation eventually ruled Montana’s death as accidental. He’d had an aneurysm from swelling caused by an unhealed concussion. I still didn’t believe it. Montana was excessively health conscious. He knew his body inside and out. He wouldn’t have fought if he thought he wasn’t safe. It was a risk he wouldn’t have taken. The concussion had been months earlier, and Montana’s trainer had ruled him fit to fight.
“By the way, have you ever heard of an Abel Callahan? Like, did Cain have a brother?”
“Not that I know of, but I didn’t study the family history of other fighters. It’s a common enough name. Google him.” She was concentrating on her other arm, spreading lotion as she spoke.
“I already did. I didn’t find anything.”
I paused for a moment.
“I still want to go to the fight, regardless. Plus, Thor will be there,” I sing-songed, returning back to my initial intention. Lindee knew I had a crush on him. She laughed at my obsession with the dirty blond, buff god, who was thick in body and head. She didn’t understand what I saw in him, other than a toned body, and I jokingly questioned if I should desire anything else. Lindee knew I didn’t believe looks were everything, but it never hurt to admire. She didn’t know about my failed attempt at seducing him.
“Besides, Cade Preston will be there, too.” I wiggled my eyebrows, hoping Lindee got the hint. I’d been subtly pushing her toward him. Preston was Silicon Valley royalty, which made him perfect for Lindee and her self-righteous parents. He wasn’t my type, with his green eyes and black hair, but the mysterious look of him was a possibility for Lindee. It was so opposite from Montana, whose dirty blond hair and blue eyes had matched mine.
“I have studying to do,” she moaned. Lindee wanted to be a nurse. It was in conflict with what my brother had done. She wanted to patch people up, while he had been tearing them down.
“One night off won’t hurt you. Come on, Lindee. It will be fun. You need some fun. Please,” I whined, folding my hands in prayer as I begged her, while I batted my eyelashes.
“Fine,” she laughed. “No wonder your brother gave you everything,” she muttered, but smiled.
“You’re going to wear yourself out,” Shepherd warned me as I stared at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t true. I’d moved up in rank, and tonight’s fight was against someone less equal than my skill. I’d actually worked out earlier in the day in preparation. I could almost sense the endorphins releasing within me. I would feel no pain. The warrior in me was anxious for the fight. Oxygen entered through every cell of my skin. I breathed
deep, controlled breaths as I took in air.
You’re worthless. Can’t you do anything right?The words haunted me, adding additional hunger for the fight. Inhale. Exhale. Practice punch.
The door was open and the cheers of the crowd signaled the end of the match before mine. I stood and followed Shepherd’s lead. I didn’t have a team of supporters like other fighters. I worked alone, as much as I could. In my heart, I was tired of being alone, though. That’s why I noticed her.
She was there, closer to the ring this time.
“Concentrate,” Shepherd bleated to me, as I warmed up in my corner. I rolled my shoulders, stretched my arms. My eyes tried to focus on my opponent, but she was right behind him outside the makeshift ring; a ray of sunshine beneath the dark waters. I blinked to remove thoughts of her. The announcer called my name. I might have imagined it, but the crowd’s response seemed louder. This was my third fight here. I was hoping this was my third win. I felt lucky.
My heart raced as we were called to center. My opponent was a smaller man. I was surprised we were in the same weight class. I had been working to increase my overall body mass and my weight. Shepherd wanted me ten pounds heavier, saying it would be safer in the middleweight class. I was too close to the cut off line. My advantage, I was told, was my fluid movement. Deliberate, controlled, methodical, like liquid. Shepherd said, I gracefully swam through the ring, anticipating the moves of my rival, like a betta fish.
My opponent danced around me. It was almost like he was chasing me. While I was an amateur, his moves were like a little kid in a schoolyard. It almost seemed unfair, but my arm lashed out and his head snapped back. He lunged for me like he wanted to take me to the ground, but we simply connected in an awkward embrace. He struggled as we remained upright. His swings only tapped at my back in his attempt to wrestle me. This was ridiculous, I thought, twisting my leg to wrap around his calf. My opponent tumbled. Landing on top of him, it was a clean knock-out in one round.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but I was only concerned with one person. Had she seen me? Her fingers were laced into the makeshift ring. The fights weren’t legal and the warehouse tonight didn’t support the space for the travelling cage. Intense blue eyes focused on me in question. I stared a little too long and her eyebrows rose. I turned away quickly, allowing Shepherd to guide me out of the arena.
Inside the small closet of space considered my changing room, I heard her.
“Betta?” A hint of accent mixed with her sweet voice. I recognized the tone. She was trying to flirt her way into the room. I stood quickly and turned my back on her. While I was interested in her, I wasn’t ready to reveal myself. Shepherd took my subtle headshake as refusal to see her. It wasn’t a smart move for someone wanting to build a reputation, but it couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be here.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” Shepherd said behind me.
“But…” The voice trailed off as the door closed to keep her out and my secret in.
Thor was charged after the fight like I assumed he would be. His win was a natural sort of high, not induced by drugs. The thrill from the fight was contagious. A party was planned in celebration of his victory and his place was crammed with fans. Everyone wanted to touch him. Every guy wanted to clap him on the back like a long lost friend. Every girl wanted to hug him in congratulations. I needed to grab his attention. Playing the vixen, I sauntered up to him like I’d witnessed my mother do on several occasions. I didn’t even say a word, just slipped between another girl and him, letting his arm instinctively wrap around me. He pulled me close without even acknowledging who I was.
After a while, I turned to him. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Without looking at me, he kissed my forehead and tugged me toward his room.
“Maybe we could step outside,” I suggested coyly. I didn’t want to get caught in his room again. I needed him to focus on my proposal. He smiled slowly and followed my lead out the front door. We walked down the staircase and stood just outside the entrance to his building.
“I have a proposition for you,” I began. He leaned in and his mouth crashed over mine. Startled, I didn’t kiss him back at first. His lips were large and wet, and I didn’t care for the way they engulfed mine. I pushed back gently, not wanting to upset him. I needed him.
“Yes,” he groaned on my mouth, before covering my lips again. His hand slipped up my side roughly and squeezed my breast like a desperate teenager. I started to giggle and he jerked back.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, a touch of edge in his tone.
“You didn’t even hear my proposal,” I giggled slightly, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.
“I like what you’re proposing already,” he said, as lips consumed mine again. My back hit the brick wall. We were near the entrance to the staircase, but not in the stairwell. The darkness of the corner hardly protected us, but someone would have to do a double take to see us.
“I…” I attempted to draw back a second time.
“Look, sweetheart,” he heaved as he began to kiss down my neck. “How about less talk and more action?” He tugged my hand to cover the bulge inside his track pants.
“I need you to fight someone for me,” I blurted. His lips stopped. He hesitated on the base of my neck for a moment, before he dragged back and looked at me.
“What?”
“I was wondering if you could arrange a fight between yourself and someone. Someone well known, outside the underground.”
“I don’t fight jealous boyfriends or ex-lovers, sweetheart,” he said sarcastically, before stepping away from me.
“No,” I pleaded, reaching out for him. “Not like that. This is legit. I need help to arrange a match with another fighter. You…you seem like you want to go places, and I thought you could help me.”
His eyes narrowed, despite the darkness. He gazed away for a second, then back at me.
“Why?” he asked.
“I…I have my reasons. You seem like you can take the person. You’re in the right weight class.”
He eyed me further, curious. His eyes then roamed my body.
“And what will you give me if I do this? If I arrange a fight?”
My hands touched his chest and caressed upward. I let them drag over his shoulders down to his biceps.
“What would you like?” I asked, in my best attempt at seduction.
His arm shot out and wrapped around my waist. I was tugged against him and his mouth came forward to overtake mine again. An inch from me, he paused to ask another question.
“Who’s the fighter?”
I was about to answer when we heard footsteps coming up the path toward the entryway. It was more than one person from the sound of laughter that echoed in the quiet night.
“Elma?” came a voice that was growing all too familiar, and continually annoying. Thor stepped in front of me, and I hid behind him. I didn’t respond.
“Get your own girl,” Thor repeated his signature line. There was a pregnant pause as the feral scent of male testosterone filled the distance between Thor and Abel. I kept my head down, refusing to acknowledge him. This was too important to me. After a longer moment, Abel gave up the silent showdown and walked away.
“Got somewhere we can go to discuss the details?” Thor asked seductively, addressing me over his shoulder. I nodded into his back. He spun for my hand and I led him across the complex grounds.
“I can’t believe she was with him,” I fumed, as I slammed the red cup on the counter. I’d downed the whole beer in one swallow.
“Relax, man,” Creed encouraged. “What is it with this girl for you? She’s a fucking tease.”
“Creed,” I growled, not wanting to take out my growing anger on my best friend, but itching to hit something.
“Look, I don’t know what she’s done to you, but she doesn’t belong to you. Every turn you take, she’s with him. You have to pick someone else.” He shrugged. His eyes scanned the place.
&
nbsp; “Oh. My. God,” he hissed low. “She’s here.”
I turned to look in the direction my friend gazed, but all I saw were clumps of people. I wasn’t in the party mood, and this scene wasn’t for me. I skimmed over the crowd to realize he wasn’t talking about Elma, anyway.
“Who’s here?” I asked.
“Lindee Parks. She was at the fight, toward the back. Brown hair, almond colored eyes, five o’clock, dude,” Creed reported. I saw the girl. She wasn’t distinct to me, but I recognized her. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t place it. She smiled shyly at Creed and looked away. We stood for several minutes by the counter, as Creed and his target played cat-and-mouse with one another. Creed stared then she glanced. Then they both turned away.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, stepping away from Creed, but his hand shot out to grab me.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to talk to her. She obviously wants to talk to you. I’ll introduce you,” I sighed.
“Dude, don’t be a dick,” Creed retorted. “I got this.” He turned in time to see the girl was watching our interchange.
“Hey,” I said loudly. I nodded like I’d seen my brother do. It wasn’t a greeting, but a weak acknowledgement. I raised my red cup to salute her. She smiled wider, but her eyes weren’t on me. They were on Creed. I noticed my friend had pointed at her then crooked his finger as if reeling her in. She laughed then walked the few steps to us.
“Hey,” she said shyly.
“Hi,” Creed replied. I was ready to gag. This was painful.
“Creed McAllister,” I said pointing at Creed. “Abel Callahan.”