by Lady Keisha
“Come in, doctor. Please, I need you to take a look at this young lady. We have, as you know, been traveling alone for a very long time and as soon as we arrived she fainted.”
The doctor nodded and set a bag down beside the bed. “It is very common for young women to faint,” the doctor said flatly as he sat on the side of the bed. “But let me take a look at you, young lady, and see just what caused this fainting spell.” Freya nodded as the doctor took her wrist in one hand and rested the fingers of the other hand on her pulse. “And Lorne, for the sake of modesty I must ask you to please wait outside.”
Lorne looked at Freya worriedly. She nodded at him to let him know that she would be okay and he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.
As Lorne stood outside his house he wondered what he was going to do if there truly was something wrong with Freya. Had he fallen in love with her, only to be punished by losing her? He wondered if perhaps he had been wrong about his God after all. He wondered if perhaps Freya had been right all along.
Time dragged on, and Lorne waited impatiently at the door of his own home. After what seemed like hours the doctor opened the door and stepped outside with his bag.
“Everything is fine. You can go in and see her now.”
Lorne nodded, and in his hurry to go in to see Freya he forgot to thank the doctor.
“What did he say? Are you okay?”
Freya patted the bed beside her, and Lorne ran to be beside her.
“I think you should sit,” she said with a smile. Lorne did as he was told and reached for her hand. “We are going to have a baby.”
Freya rested her free hand on her belly. Lorne’s eyes widened.
“I’m going to be a father?” Freya nodded. “Are you sure?”
Freya nodded again. “That’s what the doctor said!”
Lorne looked at her belly and then back at her face with a smile. “I’m going to be a father?!”
Freya laughed and nodded again.
Tears welled in Lorne’s eyes as he leaned forward and kissed Freya on the forehead. “I was so afraid. I thought that maybe you were sick, that God was punishing me for taking you.”
Freya shook her head. “There is nothing to be afraid of. Our God doesn’t punish us, he rewards us. And this…” she pulled Lorne’s hand over to her belly, “is a pretty good reward.” She smiled.
Lorne smiled too as he rubbed her belly gently. “Our own little Highlander.”
THE END
The Fighter’s Dark Love
Charter One
“Naomi, I don’t know why you insist on trying to kill yourself every single night,” Maria told me, meaning it almost literally. “It’s not like anybody is going to give a damn if you live or die. You really need to be more careful and there’s no telling what kind of damage you can do to yourself in one of these fights. I’ve seen you go toe to toe with somebody that is twice your size and still be able to knock them down to the ground. What happens when you meet that one opponent that doesn’t fall, so easily? That’s the day when you find out that you’re not so invincible.”
Maria was one of those friends that would tell you exactly what she felt without filtering her response. I didn’t always like it.
“You really don’t have any right to speak down to me like this, Maria. After I lost my job things didn’t go according to plan. I’ve looked everywhere for something that fits me, but so far I’ve gotten nowhere. It’s almost like somebody has been blacklisting me all over town. I’ve been doing these temp jobs hoping to make enough money so I can get my own place. It’s not easy and I still have to make enough money to eat. These fights are the only thing I have that even comes close to making me enough money to survive. If I get good enough, then they might give me more of the take.”
What I didn’t tell her was that I was enjoying myself. It wasn’t even about the money. Well, it was a little about the money because like I said, a girl’s got to eat. It was about the power that I had when I finally knocked them out.
I’d even taken a few guys out, which was all the rage with the regulars who came to watch. The backyard fights were not legal by any means and if we got caught, we could end up in jail. It was a good thing that they moved from one location to the next, never staying in one place too long.
It was a little bit about discovering myself, too. I honestly had never known how tough I was, although I’ve had a few bar brawls that had sent the other person to the emergency room. These fights were on a whole other level.
“I know that you can take care of yourself, Naomi. Sometimes I worry that you’re going to get in over your head. You don’t even have the necessary training to do this type of sport. It would be something else if you got somebody to show you how to do things the right way. I’m not going to state the obvious, but luck is one of the things that won’t last forever.” Maria always worried too much and I wouldn’t take it, except that she allowed me to stay on her couch once or twice a week.
The rest of the time, I was either at somebody else’s house or apartment or on really bad nights I was camping out at a nearby park. It was still early fall and not too cold to pitch a tent. I’ve always been the outdoorsy type anyway and hunting and fishing were skills that my father had taught me before he died of cancer. I never did know my mother and having no siblings had made me a virtual loner at the mature age of eighteen. It was good that my father had taught me how to be self-sufficient. I was never one to get caught in the trap of credit cards or going into debt for something that I wanted, but didn’t need.
Standing outside in Maria’s backyard working on a makeshift punching bag made of a tarp filled with sand and tied to a tree, I paid Maria as much attention as I could spare. In a fight, distractions got you hurt. My knees pounded into the weight of the bag over and over, and then my feet followed.
“If I could find something that would pay me what I’m worth, then I may consider stopping these fights.” Knee, kick. “Until then, I have no choice but to give it my all. This next fight is for a thousand dollars. A thousand dollars, Maria! If I’m able to last for at least twenty minutes, what a payday that will be for me! I’ve done my research on Abigail. She comes from Brazil and knows all of these interesting moves. I’m just going to have to learn to stay out of her reach.”
The one thing that I knew about, going into these fights, was that more information was the best information. She already had an amazing record of ten to one, wins to losses. There was no denying that this girl was dangerous. My record of five and zero was still quite impressive in its own right, but was I on Abigail’s level?
I had on black gloves with the fingers cut out, chalked up to give me a firm grip on anything that I grabbed onto. I had to be prepared. More prepared than usual, anyway. That last fight was not one of my finest moments and it made me physically aware of my limitations. These fights were not just boxing matches. They were all out brawls. For survival.
My hair was this dark black, almost blue in the right light, and I had it tied into a ponytail to allow me to move more freely while I worked out and Maria tried to talk sense into me. I was starting to utilize elbow shots now along with well-placed knee strikes, but they were not as high as I would’ve liked. It was a learning experience for me. One that I took very seriously.
The sun had gone down and I could feel the slight chill in the air. The leaves on the trees were already changing color. Wouldn’t be able to pitch my tent for much longer. The seasons were passing me by.
“Travis was talking again last night,” Maria said to me, “about calling the authorities on you guys and putting a stop to these illegal fights. Don’t worry, I talked him out of it and told him that I would never forgive him if he did something like that. I think he’s just worried that you’re going to get hurt very badly. I don’t want to see that happen, either, in case you are wondering. Just remember you aren’t Supergirl. You can’t take on everyone they throw at you. I know that I don’t know much about this sport, but I’ve
been learning for your sake. It’s the reason why I’m in your corner most nights when I’m not working the graveyard shift at the hospital.”
Having a nurse on call during my fights was a good thing as far as I was concerned. It allowed me to take some risks and have her there to tape me up if necessary.
“Believe me, I know how lucky I am to have you, as a friend, Maria.” She had come from Jamaica and she had the dreadlocks to prove it. She stood about three inches taller than me, but it was my slighter build that gave me the edge over the competition. They never knew what was coming and would always underestimate me. That was their final undoing and sometimes I would catch them off guard with how ferocious I could be.
“I hope so, Naomi,” she said to me. “I had to mend a couple of bones without the hospital being aware of it. I don’t like stealing medications and supplies, but you made it necessary. It’s just lucky that I got enough that it will probably do us for quite some time.”
The one thing that I did learn about this backyard MMA stuff was that it was always a possibility that some promoter from the real legalized version of MAA would be there to scout out talent. I was hoping beyond hope that somebody would see something in me and decide to take a chance. I knew I could make it if I had my shot. I was the stereotypical underdog that would come back at the last second to rally to victory.
My black shorts left my toned legs bare and my knees were starting to show the effect of using them against this bag. Bruised and abraded. It felt like I was hitting cement. What I wanted most of all was to learn some takedowns and moves that would make my opponents submit. It would’ve made it a lot easier than just punching away until something broke. On my opponent, or me.
“To tell you the truth, Naomi, I really do enjoy seeing you in action. I shouldn’t admit that, because it’s just so barbaric. It’s just that I find it kind of liberating to see a woman taking a stand like this. The first time that I saw you knock out a man had me jumping up and down. I get a thrill out of watching, but I wonder if I should maybe try it myself sometime.”
I turned to her abruptly and grabbed her by her green scrubs. “I don’t want you to have anything to do with this. I have to do this. You don’t. You have a good job and a good husband with a job of his own. There’s no reason for you to risk your health and wellbeing over something that you consider to be barbaric.”
I meant every word of it. It wasn’t easy for a black woman to get a break and she had done the impossible by going to college and becoming something that her parents could be proud of. She was one of their main nurses that they would call at a moment’s notice. They wouldn’t have done that unless they respected the woman behind the green scrubs.
“Calm,” she told me in that cute accent of hers. “I said that I was curious, I didn’t say that I was foolish enough to get my head knocked off. It’s bad enough that I see some of these fight victims coming into the ER after hours. You know I had to call the authorities on them, right? I had no choice once they came into my ER. This whole underground fight circuit is getting out of hand. I’ve heard some of the police officers talking about it. They even have a task force set up to deal with this.”
I knew that. I also knew that it was mostly because Jacob Robards had died in one of these unsanctioned fights. Sixteen years old, dead from a crushing blow to his face.
If I didn’t meet the same fate, I was still looking at being arrested and going to jail. Unless I got really, really good and got my shot at the real fights.
Chapter two
“Maria, we all know that it takes only one bad egg to spoil the omelet.”
I had no idea why I said something like that. It had been one of my father’s favorite sayings. Guess it just stuck with me. I didn’t mean to make light of Robards’ death, but he’d gotten complacent. That wouldn’t be me.
I grimaced slightly, seeing the bruises on my knees, but knowing that it was necessary to toughen the skin. My next fight was in twenty minutes and I had the necessary instructions to where it was taking place. They always sent a text message to the fighters to inform them of where the venue was going to be. Most often than not, it was in some dilapidated old building that was about to be torn down or abandoned. If we got lucky, someone wanting to cash in on this growing trend would allow us to use their basement. Tonight I wasn’t so lucky.
“I just don’t want to see you become one of those fatalities,” Maria said to me. “I know that there are rules and I’ve seen the referees, but they are pretty lax on when they should step in and put an end to things. I think that they’re paid to let the fighters bleed a bit. That third fighter you took on was a maniac. I could’ve sworn that she was on something. Those two kicks that she leveled at the side of your head almost did you in.”
“I think I was just surprised that she was able to reach her legs up that far. I was just lucky that she decided to try something out of the ordinary. When she had her legs wrapped around my head, I lifted her and slammed her down onto the mat so hard it knocked the wind out of her. Remember?” I shrugged one slender shoulder. “When she stood back up I had the advantage. I stepped into her space, leveled a blow to her kidneys and then followed that up with a right cross to her jaw. After that, the win was mine for the taking.”
Maria levelled her gaze at me to remind me it hadn’t been as easy as I was making it sound.
I had my hands on the back of this makeshift punching bag. I leveled one knee after another, getting close physical contact with it and making sure that there was no way that my opponent was going to slip out of the attack. It was something that I had seen on television and I was going to put it to good use tonight. In…oh my gosh, fifteen minutes!
“It looks like it’s about that time. I’m going to be there with you tonight.”
“No shift at the hospital?” I asked her.
“No. Lucky you.”
I grabbed my black hoodie, zipped it up and put it over my head. I felt like a real fighter, even if I wasn’t making that kind of money.
I think Maria was nervous getting on my motorcycle. It was one of my prized possessions. My father had bought it for me as a gift for graduating high school. It wasn’t in great shape at the time, but we worked on it together whenever we had a spare moment until it was the well-oiled machine he wanted me to have. Those moments with him were some of the best in my life. Grease stains and standing there with my father laughing his ass off as we tried to put this thing back together with our own bare hands. What we didn’t know, we learned on the fly with tutorials on the Internet and even manuals that he had gotten from work.
He’d been a machinist. We’d lived next door to this mechanic shop where he worked. Sometimes, after hours, he’d sneak us in to do the harder parts and use their tools. When we finally had it running we were so happy that he actually allowed me to have my first drink. I was sick as a dog, but it was worth it to see that smile on his face.
It wasn’t long after that when we found out that he had cancer. I thought that it would be a long time until he finally passed on, but it was only three months after the diagnosis. I guess it was a good thing, because he didn’t suffer much and I gave him my blessing to go off to join my mother. It didn’t really know her and my father had done his best to raise a young lady.
“I will never get used to getting on this thing,” Maria said now, her helmet’s face guard muffling her voice. “It’s a death trap in the making. Do you know how many accidents I’ve seen with motorcycle drivers who didn’t know what they were doing? Or when the driver of a car didn’t look first?”
She always said this. Every time, like a broken record over and over again. The only way to shut her up was to gun the engine loud enough to drown out her voice and then take off into the night.
Once, when I was three days between meals and a shower, I’d considered selling my bike. I couldn’t make myself do it. There would be snowflakes in Hell before I let anybody get their hands on this machine.
We arrived at the d
estination, an outdoor lot sandwiched between a bar and a warehouse. It was just starting to rain, and the drizzle would definitely make things a little more interesting in the ring. The spectators were crowded around the steel cage already, shaking it and making fools of themselves. It was time to get my game face on. I unzipped my hoodie, pulled it back from my head and took out the tribal war paint—black mascara—that made me feel like I was going into war. I applied it to my face with two fingers, giving me that animal-out-of-a-cage look.
I waited, going through some moves that made me look more experienced that I was. Maria wasn’t wrong that I’d been lucky on more than one occassion. I wouldn’t always be able to rely on that, though, and the only way I was going to stay alive in this game was to get some real training.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a scrawny Latino man shouted out to the crowds. “I would like to welcome you to the 200th fight of the underground circuit. As always, there is no flash photography. No video. Nobody is exempt. If we see anyone recording our fights they will removed by force. Got it? Good.”
He smiled at everyone now, working the crowd. “Our first competitor was Abigail ‘The Ape’ Crance. At least, it was going to be, before she cancelled on us. Don’t worry,” he shouted over the boos and cat calls. “That doesn’t mean that we just close up shop and go home tonight. The show must go on. In her place, we have Helen ‘The Killer’ Joy and she’ll be taking on the defending champion Naomi ‘No Mercy’ Waters!”
Gotta admit. I sound deadly. I wasn’t even the one that came up with my nickname. It was chosen for me by the owner of our little floating fight club. I knew that he was raking in the money and everybody here that was in attendance was paying for the right to be here. He also had an Internet connection for those that couldn’t be, branching out to international countries as far away as Europe, for those who had the credit cards to pay for it.