Free Paradise Fought: Abel by L. B. Dunbar Page A

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.
    “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.”
    Her head shot in my direction.
    “Abel Callahan?” she asked. “Are you related to Cain Callahan, by chance?”
    “Who wants to know?” I deflected, to which Creed hissed my name in warning and the girl’s bright smile fell.
    “I want to know,” she replied, defiantly.
    “Why?”
    “Abel, dude,” Creed warned again. To my surprise, he wasn’t offering the answer either, though.
    “Do you know him?” There were many women who did, some more disgruntled at knowing him than others. I didn’t need some girl going all ape-shit on me because my brother was a fuck-‘em-and-leave-‘em lover. Lover was even too nice of a word for Cain and his exploits. It reminded me suddenly that I hadn’t searched for that girl he requested I find on campus. I couldn’t remember the girl’s name off the top of my head, or I would have asked outright if this Lindee was the one Cain wanted.
    “I know of him,” she replied. “If that counts.”
    “Counts for what?”
    “Never mind,” she sighed and took a sip of her drink. An awkward silence fell between us.
    “So….” Creed attempted. “You were at the fight tonight, right?”
    “Yes,” she said quietly. Her voice was suddenly sad, and I looked at my friend who was watching her. His eyebrows pinched as her eyes averted his.
    “You didn’t like the fight?” Creed questioned.
    “It was fine.” She shrugged in disinterest.
    “Have a favorite fighter? Besides Cain Callahan.”
    “Cain Callahan is not my favorite fighter,” she snapped. It was evident that she could be one of the bitter castaways of Cain’s. I decided I would definitely not be mentioning my relation to him. I didn’t need the negative connection.
    “Well…” Creed tried again. “Did you have a favorite tonight?”
    “The fights aren’t really for me, but that Betta guy seemed like one to watch.”
    “Interesting,” Creed stated,