Paradise Fought: Abel (22 page)

There was only one way I could think of to earn money, to
get
money rather. I needed to go back to my original plan. I needed a fighter. I had the connections. I’d have to cower for the help. It was a risk. One Montana had taken multiple times, but a meager bet could pay big, if placed correctly. Montana had to have been a lucky player at one point. Most of Montana’s debt was to loan sharks or bookies. They had no choice but to write them off. We had nothing left. We paid who we could, what we could, in hopes that something was better than nothing for them. Montana had placed his final bet on what he hoped would be the right fight.

I needed the right fight, too.

The week was filled with midterms, as spring break was the second week of March. I wasn’t planning on going home. Shepherd had a new training circuit to test out on me, and I was looking forward to changing things up. I had wanted to sneak a weekend away to the condo in Hawaii, but it wasn’t possible. I had a fight Saturday night. This one moved me out of the underground associated with campus to a more organized round outside the city proper.

My opponent was a big man. I was surprised we were in the same weight class. It was a huge step up for me. I don’t know how Shepherd arranged it, but I was happy to be out from hiding. The underground was risky. The illegal fights could get me expelled from school, and I’d never want to explain that to my father. It would be one more disappointment.

I held my own with the large man. Ram, he called himself. It was a good fight, but not surprisingly, I lost. It wasn’t that I lacked confidence to win, but the atmosphere was so different from the underground. The nicer space, the organized fans, the bright lights, and the overwhelming cheers were new to me. It was almost the big time. He was a gracious opponent and told me I gave a good fight.

I would have liked to have the experience with Elma, but she was understandably not attending the fight. She’d become reserved in the past week. Creed had been my solitary fan, as he was in the beginning. I was the underdog in this bigger arena: little fish in a big pond. The pressure of being the underdog actually fueled me. I used people’s doubts to energize me.

When the fight was over, Ram’s manager approached me. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair. He wore a dark suit with a bright blue shirt that matched his eyes.

“Jared Jacobson,” he introduced, while he reached to shake my hand. “Where do you train?” he asked. It wasn’t a secret, but I didn’t wish to share.

“Who wants to know?” I responded. The older man looked taken aback at my reply.

“I do,” he said. “Cocky bastard already, kid? Maybe you aren’t who I thought you were?” He stepped around me, and I suddenly felt guilty for acting disrespectful. Shepherd approached me as I turned to watch the man walk away.

“Was that Jared Jacobson speaking to you?”

“Yeah. Do you know him?” I asked, confused that my coach would recognize the name of someone prominent in the industry.

“Yes. He’s managed some amazing fighters and their fights. What did he want?”

“Wanted to know where I trained?”

Shepherd nodded.

“Think he wanted to offer to manage you? I’m your coach. This fight was a bitch to arrange. I’m not into that side of the ring.” Shepherd had an interesting upbringing. The child of a prizefighter, there was familiarity with the fight clubs. Coach’s career was more an associate of the sidelines until arriving in the Valley. Manager of a small gym, Shepherd trained lost sheep. I was one of those who stumbled into Highlands Gym and found a long lost home.

“Should I have asked?” I showed my ignorance, as I turned to watch the older man continue walking up the aisle of the fight auditorium.

“I would have,” Shepherd sighed. It wasn’t until I was in the fighter’s hall that I was able to catch up to Mr. Jacobson.

“Mr. Jacobson,” I called out. Fortunately, he stalled and turned to face me. “I wanted to apologize. I might have been a bit rude back there. I’m…I’m rather secretive about what I do and where I do it.”

Jared Jacobson eyed me.

“Well, if you want to make it big, you can’t be hiding out.”

“I know, sir, I just wanted time to prove myself.”

“I know who you are,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “I’d say you have nothing to prove. I run ISA – Imperial Sports Associates. I manage several fighters, which includes organizing their fights, arranging their public appearances, and getting them big money. Got anyone who does that for you?”

I shook my head.

“I’d like to offer my services. Think about it, when you’re ready to come out of The Valley. Interesting coach you have there,” he said, eyeing Shepherd coming toward us down the hall before handing me a card with his name and numbers.

I was on a natural high until I reached my locker room.

“Uncle K?” I questioned, stopping abruptly inside the door. His large back was to me and he turned slowly to face me. His face could be kind. He wasn’t actually my uncle but more of a surrogate brother to my father. He’d been present my whole life and assumed the role of uncle when he became the bodyguard of Cain. The two men were hardly ever separated, unless my father had a mission for him.

“Abel, what have you been up to?” His solid arms crossed over his broad chest. In a black t-shirt, and black dress pants, he looked like something out of a thug movie. Bald head and dark glasses, dangling from his collar, completed the look.

I started at his soft brown eyes. My appearance alone gave away what I’d been doing. I’d been fighting, and if Kursch knew, so did my father.

“I lost,” I said meekly, succumbing to the timid child I once was in the presence of my father’s henchmen. I was never going to be good enough in their eyes.

“I saw,” he said softly. “You put up a good fight, though. Your father would be proud.”

My head shot up. My father wasn’t going to be proud. He was going to be pissed. I was fighting. I wasn’t allowed to fight as a child. I wasn’t allowed to do many things. The fact I was getting away with it at twenty-one was enough to upset my father. He had never been proud of my accomplishments. I glared at Kursch. He knew the truth as well.

“Your father would like to see you,” Kursch stated.

“I can’t,” I replied. I declined returning home on many occasions. My refusal would not be new.

“It’s almost your birthday. It’s not a request. He’s summoning you home.”

I didn’t want to go. Elma was staying behind for the break, and I asked her to stay with me. I didn’t want her alone in Lindee’s apartment, as the other girls returned home or vacationed for the break. I wanted her near me. She had to work, so she wouldn’t be lonely in my place while I trained. I was hoping it would give me time to learn more about her and how I could help her.

“I’m busy,” I snipped. I brushed past my uncle for my bag. Sitting with a huff, I began to unwrap my hands.

“You aren’t,” Kursch commanded. There was something in the tone of his voice.

“Yes. I am,” I stated.

“You won’t be if you don’t come home.” I ignored the threat. I wasn’t going and Kursch knew it. I bent forward to unlace my shoes.

“Kursch?” Shepherd bit. Dark eyes met mine, as I looked up to see my coach’s face full of disgust.

“Shepherd?” The surprise in Kursch’s voice was evident. Clearly, my uncle recognized my coach, which troubled me. Kursch said my mentor’s name in a strange tone of interest. It hinted that they knew one another.

“Wonderful to see you,” Kursch addressed my trainer.

“I wish I could say the same,” was the grumbled response. I stared between the two of them. While Coach knew my story: who I was, where I came from, it was never mentioned by my mentor that there was any acknowledgement of the names from my past.

“I’ll see you soon, Abel,” Kursch demanded. He walked to the open door of my space. “Hopefully, sooner rather than later,” he said over his shoulder with a final glance at Shepherd.

“You didn’t tell me you know Kursch,” I snapped as soon as my uncle left the room.

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important? How do you know him?”

My question was ignored.

“Better yet, do you know my father?”

“I…I do.” There was hesitation in coach’s voice. “Look, you wanted a fresh start. That meant allowing you to be you, without any concern of
them
. I know who he is. I know what he’s capable of. I wanted this for you. For. You.” The emphasis was clear. Shepherd never mentioned it because I might have turned away. I might not have followed through on this dream, if there was any chance my father could find out before it began.

“Did you contact him?” I asked, full of disbelief at the potential betrayal.

“Are you insane?” my trainer laughed. “I’d never contact him, Abel.” There was something in the way my coach said it, which had me wonder just what my father had done to Shepherd. The conviction not to speak with my father left no doubt that Atom Callahan had struck another person’s past.

I found Elma sitting on the open tailgate of my truck, in an emptying parking lot.

“Hey.” I grinned wide at seeing her pretty smile after the confusion of Mr. Jacobson and Kursch. Her face was healing quickly, although the yellowish color on her cheek was a sickening reminder of what could have happened to her.

“How was the fight?” she asked, looking up at me with bright eyes.

“Good. I lost, though,” I said, nonchalantly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in that sweet voice with a hint of drawl. Her eyes questioned mine. She knew there was more.

“Someone who works for my father came to see me. Actually, you met him once: Kursch,” I stated, leaving my comment open as Elma stared at me.

“The big guy from Carrie’s? Why did he come to see you?”

“My father’s demanding I come home.”

“Why?” The way Elma asked was the way I felt, disgusted. I spread her knees to stand between her legs. Elma’s legs kicked out then wrapped around me and dragged me closer to her. I hadn’t told Elma much about my father, mainly because I didn’t like to discuss him. I didn’t like to dredge up the memories. There wasn’t anything positive to recall.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked encouragingly.