Paradise Fought: Abel (35 page)

Our dance ended and the teenage girls showcased their individual short pieces. Many of them were just like me when I was that age. Not a care in the world other than Daddy’s credit cards and who the cutest boy in school was. I didn’t have credit cards any longer, and the cutest guy at my school was one I never noticed before. I was too late. I found it ironic that I’d given myself to Abel, of all people, and yet the irony was on me, because he defended my honor at every turn. We weren’t even together when he’d done it on three different occasions.

My number was next. It was a solo and flashes of Abel and I in the dance studio infiltrated my thoughts. I should have been cognizant that I was on a stage, in an auditorium of parents and siblings. Instead, my head took over and I was in the dance studio again. Abel was under me in my thoughts, but we hadn’t touched. He was behind me, holding me tight to him. He was inside me with his fingers and the pulsing rhythm between my thighs matched the rapid beat of my heart as I danced. I was vaguely aware of the sweat trickling down the curve of my neck under the stage lights, but I was used to that sensation. Images of performing at Carrie’s flashed through my mind. I realized how lucky I was to have my current employment instead of continuing to work for the dance club. Carrie had been a decent employer, but it wasn’t a decent place to work.

My performance ended and the crowd applauded, but my sense of being alone overcame me. I had no mother or brother in that audience. I had no friends. While Lindee had been willing, I couldn’t be so selfish as to ask her to stay. I didn’t have Abel and he was the only one I wanted to make proud of me. I curtsied low and walked stoically from the stage. My eyes glistened with unshed tears, and I wiped at my face once I was out of eyesight of the darkening stage. I practically ran into Jewels in the space between the stage left curtain and the entrance to a hall, leading to holding rooms for students.

“Here,” she said, holding out an envelope to me.

“What?” I asked, my heart dropping as I thought the envelope held my final paycheck. Jewels was angry at my performance, I assumed.

“Just take it,” she said, as she shook the envelope before me.

“I…I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” I questioned, reaching a shaky hand for the white rectangle.

“Absolutely nothing. In fact, I’m impressed by your dedication. I know you want to be elsewhere.” She raised an eyebrow to me.

“Your performance was amazing. Sensual and raw. There’s a scout out there for LA’s City Dance Troupe. He better not steal you, though,” Jewels pouted. “I’m kidding. Kind of.” She shrugged and nodded toward the envelope in my hand.

“I was asked to give that to you when you finished for the day. I’d say you’ve done enough and you need to get going.” She smiled slowly and my curiosity was piqued.

I sliced open the flap and pulled out a card stock of paper. It was a plane ticket for Las Vegas. I wouldn’t arrive until too late for the fight, but it was still an invitation to come to Vegas.

“Who gave this to you?” My heart leapt, hoping it was Abel, but knowing realistically it was Lindee.

“I can’t say. I don’t know. It arrived yesterday with a message to give to you when you were done,” Jewels smiled again, but she had a mischievous twinkle to her eyes. I didn’t have time to argue. I needed to get moving. I had a plane to catch.

A few days before the fight, I returned to Vegas, only I wouldn’t stay in the family home. It had never felt like a home, just a house, with a room that confined me and restricted me until I could break free. Meeting Creed had been a saving grace for me. He was my first friend, and the one who traveled with Shepherd and me to my suite at The Belfast Casino. The Belfast was inside the city proper of Vegas but on the edge. At the end of the strip, it catered to a different clientele, those who were there to play for big stakes. In this case, it was the high price of betting on a fight. The resort was large enough to house a small arena for events such as these. The place was sold out for the fight of the century: brother vs brother.

While Cain was broader than me, more solid in mass, I had speed on him. Leaner and taller, I was quick. I could dance, the sportscasters announced. I had the moves to outmaneuver my opponent. I was going to have to keep my head one hundred percent in the fight to win. I couldn’t let it get inside my brain that this was my brother. I needed to concentrate on the fact this was a contender against me. It was easier to imagine he was a rival because in many ways he had been. Cain fought for my father’s attention, just like me, only he took the negative and the positive. He took beatings as well as congratulations. Cain was encouraged and he followed through on his performance to win. Not only was I discouraged, I was reminded that I wouldn’t amount to anything. Verbally abused, I sometimes wished my father did hit me. It might have let my mind rest if I concentrated on the physical ache instead.

Shepherd wanted me to harbor that hatred; relive those painful memories and bring them to life to center my concentration for the fight. She didn’t want me thinking of Elma. I’d been trying to block thoughts of her for weeks, anyway. Recalling how Elma didn’t respond to my declaration of love was painful. Evoking the bizarre conversation with my brother over Elma disturbed me. His blatant disregard for her feelings convinced me further that he and Elma had shared the night after she and I had sex in my room. Only a snake could take pleasure in dismissing his used prey at the feet of someone hungry. Cain’s denial only reinforced my belief that my brother had taken the woman I loved.
Had
loved. I needed to let Elma go.

The fight was scheduled for eight p.m., and I spent the day just listening to music to keep myself motivated. This was my first fight in a big arena. It was not only sold out in Vegas, but the concept was bigger than anything I had ever imaged. I wanted to fight. I wanted to prove to my father that I could stand up for myself. Fighting my brother had never been my intention, but Cain was the ultimate opponent.

In reality, Cain could beat me. My head would overrule my body. I’d let Cain serve me what I believed he’d been holding off from doing his whole life: giving me the beating he took. Shepherd must have sensed when my thoughts overtook me, and she worked me twice as hard in the ring with sparring partners. The night of the fight, she paced my changing room as I waited for the call to the ring. I closed my eyes to her patterned movement. She was making me dizzy and increasing my nerves.

A knock rapped on the door and announced my time. I followed the guide with Shepherd at my side. Creed was in the crowd. He was the only one I could count on being there for me. My father would be sitting behind Cain. Elma would definitely not be there. She had her performance earlier in the day. Besides, I didn’t think she would show her support of me anyway. I tried not to think of my disappointment. My head hung low as I walked the narrow hallway to the arena.

The media coverage was insane. There were designated places to stop for cameras; specific directions to look in for photographs; and the final instruction to pause and wait for an introduction.

“Ladies and gentlemen…”

As the underdog, I was announced first.

“In this corner, weighing in at two hundred ten, six-four, Baaaaayyy-taaaa.”

The crowd cheered for me. Their enthusiasm for a fight flooded my veins which pumped with nervous energy.

But they downright exploded for Cain.

“And in this corner, with his premiere return to the ring, weighing in at two-hundred fifty pounds, standing six-two, Coooo–bbra.”

He was the prodigal son returned. The fattened calf was out in whistles and screams that filled the big ring. The fans wanted blood. A shark was in the tank, and the little fish was going down.

I watched the entrance of my brother. All eyes were drawn to him as he walked in his red silk robe. His arms bulged. His strut cocky. His presence commanded the arena.

“Ignore,” Shepherd demanded behind me, as she rubbed my shoulders and slapped against my back. I’d refused the additional support Mr. Jacobson wanted to hire to help Shepherd coach me. I was superstitious enough not to want to change anything in my routine. I also wanted to win on my own terms, not those of someone else. Ava Shepherd was my coach, plain and simple. It never bothered me that she was a woman. It fazed me only as long as it took for her to kick my ass. Then I didn’t think twice about her training me.

“Gentlemen, approach,” the referee demanded. Flash photography wasn’t allowed, but the amount of high definition lenses pointed in our direction made our greeting the spectacled display it was meant to portray. Brother meets brother–in the ring.

We bumped fists before the buzzer sounded and the fight began. I didn’t hear any announcer. I didn’t hear the crowd. I heard the taunts of my father in my head.

You’re weak; you’re worthless.

You can’t do anything right.

You’re never going to amount to anything.

“Focus,” the snarl of my brother broke through my thoughts. “Get in the fight.” My surprise at his words resulted in a left hook to the abs and my natural response was a right to his chest. His eyes opened wide only briefly at the connection. The slightest of smirks egged me on. The fight began in earnest.

Upper cut to the chin from Cain. A jab to the lower kidney and I went down. Cain was over me in a hold and my head rolled to the side. The buzzer called the end of round one. As I returned to my corner, I caught the eye of Creed, who nodded left. I typically didn’t look outside the ring. My attention was inside it, but something caught my eye in that brief second, or rather someone. I glanced across the ring at Cain once I was seated. He was centered and unwavering in his stare at me.

We returned to center.

“She’s here,” I growled through clenched teeth and a mouth guard. He didn’t lose his concentration on the fight at hand.

“You’re fucking with me?” he attempted, as his dark eyes narrowed and the sound of the buzzer signaled the round began. I swung and he ducked. “Trying to make me look, Abel? That’s child’s play,” he cursed. I didn’t respond. We needed to fight on. I remained in it from that point forward. Jabs and stabs. Kicks and twists. We circled around each other. The Cobra struck, but the Betta could swim. I darted out of hooks and cuts, getting in a fair share of my own before Cobra stung. He was an unparalleled fighter, compared to me, and I was exhausted quickly as he worked around me. A round house kick brought me down again and Cain was over me.

“Fuck, Abel, give in,” he growled as his fist hit my cheek. I retaliated with a blow to his ear. The buzzer tolled. I was losing.

We each took a corner. This time I remained focused on Cain. My heart raced with the flow of adrenaline. Endorphins released cutting off the pain. I narrowed in on the look of my father’s face behind Cain. How many times had I seen that look? Disappointment was written all over his face. He wanted this to be a clean fight; a knock out in one round, proving Cain’s ability over mine. Proving his coaching of his eldest son over my coaching by a woman. Proving that he was the master and Cain would be his servant, delivering blows he could no longer produce. I shifted my eyes to Cain.

His attention had turned slightly outside the ring behind me, and I could only assume he’d finally seen what I hinted at. Sofie Vincentia was behind me. Cain’s expression turned to hate instantly. His eyes flicked to mine. It was like I could read them. His anger at Sofie on my side of the ring was evident. It finally occurred to me. Cain didn’t want
Sofie
to love me, because he loved her. It made me feel sorry for Elma all over again, but I had renewed energy and bait for my brother.

Returning to center, I taunted him again.

“She’s here for…” I barely had the word ‘me’ out of my mouth and he’d clocked it. My head jolted to the side. Blood sprang from my lips, and I was certain I’d lost a tooth from the impact. I tried to strike back but Cain was on fire. He punched and kicked in a steady stream of moves that could have been choreographed by a dancer. It was electric and beautiful, and wearing me down. I cowered for a moment until I heard a voice yell my name.