Baller: An Interracial MMA Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

Chapter Two

Hannibal

A little while later, Hannibal was sitting on the small balcony overlooking the highway, and Trudy was passing him a mason jar full of her signature sweet iced tea.

“So, you talked to Julius at all?” She demanded.

Hannibal shrugged, sipping the delicious tea.

“I dunno,” he said. “We like each other’s posts on Facebook. He’s doing alright, isn’t he? He still in school?”

“At that damned
community college
, sure,” Trudy settled her bulk into the chair opposite Hannibal. “What a disappointment. Both your parents are tenured professors. You went to the best private school in Hartfood. And what happens to you two? One of you barely scrapes into community college, and the other drops out of Wesleyan to go and be a damned
street fighter
.”

“Mixed Martial Arts, Momma,” Hannibal corrected her. “And it’s hardly street fighting.” He sipped his tea, and casually mentioned: “I pulled in seven hundred grand last year, with purse money and endorsements.”

Trudy sniffed. Her townhome wasn’t worth a quarter of that, but she sure as hell didn’t sound impressed.

“And what kind of career is that, Baller? Where are you gonna be when you’re thirty? Washed up, that’s where. If you’re not brain damaged, or dead.”

Hannibal snorted, and shook his head.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, son,” Trudy snapped. “I’ve seen the stories about you on TV. Banned for three months? For brawling in a hotel lobby?” She shook her head. “I raised you better than that, Hannibal.”

And the truth be told? She had.

One of the reasons Hannibal had made the cross-country drive to see his mother was because he didn’t have anything better to do. He’d been suspended from the MMA league for picking a fight with rival James ‘Bulldog’ MacDonald in a hotel lobby – fined, suspended for three months and – most embarrassingly of all – he’d had his ass handed to him by the Scottish heavyweight.

“Well, you didn’t invite me here to give me a hard time,” Hannibal growled. “You said it was about Jules. What’s the problem with my brother? Is he okay?”

“No he’s not,” Trudy hissed. “He’s trying to
follow in your footsteps
.”

Chapter Three

Kristen

Kristen heard the car coming down the street long before she saw it.

Climbing up from her bed, the curvy college student stood at the window of her bedroom and peered down into the quiet, suburban street.

There, purring down the road, was a gleaming Bentley Continental GT – a $200,000 sportscar popular with trashy stars like Paris Hilton.

She knew who it was without even getting a glimpse of the driver.

Hannibal.

Kristen crossed her arms and watched at the Bentley purred to a halt by the curb, and the door swung open. Out climbed her stepbrother, Hannibal Alexander. The towering, good-looking MMA prizefighter, with his burly bare arms and infuriatingly arrogant swagger, walked across the yard like he owned it.

Kristen sniffed.

It had been a year since she’d last seen Hannibal, and that hadn’t been long enough.

If she’d had her way, she’d never have seen him again.

*              *              *

Kristen had first met Hannibal Alexander when her mom had taken a job at the college he taught in.

Kristen’s mom Susie was new in town, freshly divorced and eager for new friends. Hannibal’s dad Cornell, the friendly professor, was more than happy to take her under his wing. He had a beautiful wife, and two smart young sons, and seemed delightfully safe, and non-threatening.

And that’s how Kristen had wound up as part of Hannibal’s life.

She’d just finished up high school, and had been dragged to this new town by her mother. That would have been disorientating enough, but in addition to the strange new apartment in the strange new town, she had to deal with her heartbroken mother, who flitted between drunken bouts of depression and wild fits of crying.

Thanks to the friendship of Cornell, Susie soon started to sort herself out – but nevertheless those early days had been rough for Kristen.

If it hadn’t been for the new friendships she had with Hannibal and his little brother Jules, Kristen didn’t know whether she’d have made it or not.

The three of them had become friends fast. Hannibal and Jules practically adopted her.

Perhaps because they were the only black kids on the block, there was never any issue about the different color of their skin. Hannibal and Jules treated this pretty white girl like she was their sister, and for a beautiful summer, the three of them were practically inseparable.

Kristen knew that bond had helped her get through the messy move, and had given her ragged-around-the-edges mom the stability she needed as she found her feet again.

But there was more to it than that. For Kristen, this new friendship had awoken feelings inside her she’d never experienced before.

These were the days before Hannibal took up fighting. Martial Arts was just a passion of his then, and he was more focused on getting the classes he wanted at Wesleyan. He was a bright, clean-cut young African American kid with a good future ahead of him; and Kristen fell for him
hard
.

She thought he was amazing.

He was big, and powerful-looking even then. He took martial arts and fitness very seriously and his body was a rippling washboard of muscle and sinew.

When they’d gone to the lake or to the beach, Kristen had felt her cheeks burn every time she watched Hannibal take off his shirt. But, like a car wreck, she couldn’t look away either.

And more than that – Hannibal looked out for her.

He was always there for her - dependable, and warm, and strong. The feel of his arm around her shoulders made Kristen feel both comforted and excited at the same time.

She sometimes wondered if he’d ever felt the same for her.

And there was something else to it, too. The fact that Hannibal was black. There was a frisson of the forbidden about Kristen’s attraction to him; and that just made her want it more.

For a few brief weeks, she wondered if she and Hannibal were going to get together – something new and exciting and beautiful out of all the chaos and heartache of her parent’s divorce.

But then everything went to shit.

Kristen’s feelings for Hannibal died he day Hannibal’s mom found Cornell in bed with Susie.

*              *              *

To this day, Kristen was still amazed she’d never seen the clues – but the affair between Susie and Cornell had apparently continued in secret for weeks, right under the noses of their kids.

And when it had all come out into the open, there was hell to pay.

Hannibal’s mother threw plates and smashed windows. There were calls to the cops – although thankfully no arrests.

She’d left him, of course. Trudy had walked out on Cornell, snapping her fingers as she went – the very epitome of the Angry Black Woman stereotype she bitterly complained about in the classes she taught.

To his credit, Cornell had tried to make things right. When he realized that things with Trudy weren’t going to work out, he at least offered to make an honest woman out of Susie – in the hope that creating a new union would make up for the one their infidelity had destroyed.

And Kristen’s mom had said yes, without even questioning it. She was a lonely divorcee with no friends in a new town. Cornell was like a life jacket to her, and she grabbed at him without even thinking of the consequences.

But there
were
consequences.

For a start, that’s how Kristen had ended up living in that big, old house in Hartford – the one Hannibal and Jules had grown up in. She went from being treated like their sister to
actually
being their step-sister.

For a while, Kristen had hoped it would work out – but divorce never works that way. She’d gained a new dad; but the two boys had lost theirs.

And Kristen’s heart ached for them. They were experiencing the same feelings she’d endured when Susie had divorced Kristen’s dad. Only it hit Hannibal and Jules much harder.

Suddenly, the smart kids with the bright futures had everything they knew, loved and relied upon taken away from them. And they reacted accordingly.

Jules got suspended for fighting, and then for smoking. He got caught with weed, and nearly wound up arrested. His grades plummeted and he started acting up in class.

And Hannibal got into a different addiction – the easy money of competitive fighting.

Soon he’d dropped out of Wesleyan to follow his new passion; and that had taken him to the bright lights of Las Vegas, where nobody gave a shit about what his parents had been doing, and nobody expected him to graduate top of his class.

He went there to fight, and his years of training made him a natural. Soon Hannibal caught a break, and matched that opportunity with his skill and ability. Within six months he was an MMA champion, with a made-up new persona full of streetwise quips and a swaggering, gangsta attitude.

And that left Jules all alone back in Hartford, with a bitter, angry mother and a stern, shameful father and everything the poor kid knew and loved in pieces all around him.

Hannibal had left Jules – and Kristen, to be fair – when they both needed him the most.

And she fucking hated him for it.

Chapter Four

Kristen

But hate is a luxury step-siblings don’t have.

Despite the feelings bubbling up inside of her, Kristen knew she had to behave. So she looked out of the window and watched her handsome stepbrother walk up the garden path, and then ring the doorbell.

Downstairs the dogs went crazy, barking and yapping. Kristen rolled her blue eyes in frustration.

Mom and her step-dad were out.
She’d
have to deal with Hannibal now he’d dragged his sorry ass back home.

Sighing, Kristen headed downstairs, listening to the wood creak underfoot. Popcorn and Buttons, their two Bichon Frisé dogs, scurried underfoot yapping wildly. She gently nudged them aside as she unlocked the front door and swung it open.

There, looming in the doorway, stood Hannibal.

Kristen shivered involuntarily.

Tall, dark and handsome, her swaggering African-American stepbrother was still infuriatingly good-looking.

While these days, she thought he was a piece of shit – he was still a good-looking, sexy, panties-dropping piece of shit.

Hannibal pulled off his dark glasses and looked down at Kristen with disdain.

“Hey, Krissie,” he purred, in that sexy baritone of his. “Jules or Pop at home?”

“Cornell’s out with Mom,” Kristen didn’t invite him in. “They went to Home Depot or something to pick up some plants. And Jules?” She sniffed. “Haven’t seen him in a week. He moved out to an apartment near school. He only ever comes back when he’s hungry, or he needs to do his laundry.”

Hannibal’s broad shoulders visibly slumped.

For a second, the two of them just stood there in silence.

It was infuriating. Kristen desperately wanted him to leave, but she felt obligated to invite her sexy stepbrother in. After all, he’d lived his whole life in this house, and she’d been here less than a year. She’d never feel like this was her home when he was around.

“Look, I don’t know when your dad is going to be back,” Kristen finally relented. “I mean, it could be
hours
,” she made a silent prayer he’d just come back later, “but if you want to, I
suppose
you can come in and wait for him.”

And, just as she’d feared, Hannibal nodded and brushed past her.

The dogs barked even more fiercely, dancing around Hannibal’s ankles and snarling. They’d never liked him – not since they’d arrived when Kristen and her mom moved in. Hannibal’s dad used to joke that they were ‘furry little racists’ because of the way they’d bark at him and his two sons.

But if Hannibal was bothered by the dogs, he didn’t look like it. He just walked into the kitchen like he owned the place, and opened up the fridge. He helped himself to a bottle of water.

“Make yourself at home,” Kristen snapped, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

Hannibal didn’t take the bait. He just sat down at the kitchen table, tore the top off his bottle of water and gulped down two long, slow swallows.

And, as he did so, the handsome black fighter looked Kristen up and down appraisingly – with those predatory brown eyes of his that always made her shiver.

“So, Krissie,” Hannibal purred. “What’s up?”

Chapter Four

Hannibal

Snooty little bitch.

That’s what Hannibal thought, as he lounged in the kitchen table, sipping his water.

There was Kristen, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, like she owned the place.

This was
his
house. This was where
he’d
grown up, with Mom and Dad and his little brother, Julius.

All until last year, when his dad had finalized the divorce, and Mom had moved out to that shitty little townhouse she hated.

So Hannibal had his reasons for not liking the unspoken attitude Kristen was giving him.

What made it worse was that she was looking good, too – in a tight white t-shirt and shorts. A little on the plump side, but with acres of legs and arms exposed, all burned a delicious, sun-kissed brown. Her long, dirty blond hair was tumbled down around her shoulders, and her face was fresh and clear without a touch of makeup.

For a moment, they were silent. Then Hannibal reluctantly broke the silence by asking: “So, Krissie. What’s up?”

Krissie stayed standing in the doorway.

“Not a lot,” she said, clearly not interested in a discussion. “Still at school. I’m working down at
Chili’s
to pay my tuition.”

Hannibal snorted.

“Maybe I’ll come down and visit you while I’m here. I always loved my baby back ribs.”

Kristen narrowed her eyes.

“So Dad doing okay?” He asked as a follow-up question. “And your moms?”

Hannibal had reverted to saying ‘moms’ in that adopted ‘straight outta Compton’ accent he’d been practicing. He’d been away from home so long, he’d almost forgotten that the public face of ‘Baller’ Alexander – the rough, tough, badass fighter – was incongruent with the clean-cut, teacher’s son reality – the kid who’d gone to private school, and been attending karate school since he was 4 years old.

But the moment the words left his mouth, they sounded wrong. Six months living like a gangster couldn’t erase twenty years growing up in this old, timber house.

The house he was now feeling like a stranger in.

Noticing that Kristen hadn’t replied to his question about their parents, Hannibal followed up: “So where’s Jules at? You said he’d moved out. When did that happen?”

Kristen sniffed.

“A couple of weeks ago. First he got a dorm over at college. He and your Dad were always fighting.” She narrowed her eyes. “And then he blew that place off to move to a shitty apartment in the north of town.”

Hannibal said nothing. The tone of Kristen’s voice was almost like she was blaming him for Jules’ departure.

And from the way she continued talking, maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth.

“You know he’s into all that MMA shit now? Trying to follow in your footsteps?”

Hannibal shuddered.

“Yeah, Moms told me.”

“Well, you do alright with it.”

“
I’ve
been studying martial arts since I was
four
,” Hannibal growled. “Jules quit that to do guitar instead. And then he quit guitar to do gymnastics.” He didn’t remember what hobby his brother had adopted following
that
– but it had been equally short-lived.

A little aggressively, Hannibal growled: “I only do alright because I’ve been studying martial arts
my whole life
. If Jules thinks he can just turn up, strap on some gloves and start fighting – he’s gonna get himself hurt. Or worse.”

“Yeah, well,” Kristen crossed her arms, “we told him all that, and he didn’t listen.” She sniffed. “Seems to be a family trait with you boys.”

Hannibal pursed his lips.

“Sounds like I need to go and talk some sense into him.”

“Well, good luck with that. We’ve tried.”

Hannibal looked up at the curvy white girl.

“Well, no offense,” the fighter growled, “but why the hell is he gonna listen to
you
?”

Kristen said nothing.

Hannibal snorted, and checked the time on his G-Shock.

“Well, if Pops ain’t here, maybe I’ll go and try and find him.” He looked up at Kristen. “Where’s he at, Krissie?”

“He’s got some shithole apartment in the Woodland Village,” she sniffed. That was north of the I-84, and a pretty dangerous part of town. “You gonna roll that big, beautiful Bentley up there? I’m sure they’ll
love
that.”

Hannibal growled.

Hartford was a pretty weird city. Some parts were beautiful and safe, like this neighborhood where he’d grown up. But just a few miles away were some of the most dangerous ghettos in America; and even Hannibal’s bad-boy, wannabe gangster façade wouldn’t protect him there.

And the Bentley? A $200,000 customized luxury car? It would be sitting on cinderblocks within the hour.

“Okay,” Hannibal looked up at Kristen. “You still driving that beat-up Camry? Can I take that?”

“Can you drive stick?”

Hannibal’s cheeks burned.

Kristen snorted.

“Let me get changed. I’ll take you.”