by H. T. Night
I reluctantly parted from Yari and followed Atticai over to his van. He got into the driver’s side, and I got into the passenger’s side. He turned the key in the ignition just enough to power up. He turned the radio on. “What’s your music of choice?” he asked.
“I don’t care. Choose whatever you want.”
“I like classical. But the stations out here on the West Coast would rather go under financially with some God-awful hip-hop station than to give Mozart and Bach a chance.”
“I love classical.” And I did, too. I had a music appreciation class back in high school and had been introduced to all the greats in classical and jazz.
Atticai said, “You don’t strike me as the classical music type.”
“You’d be surprised what I like. Now about the real part of the chat you requested. Let’s get to it,” I said.
Atticai looked directly at me. I found his stare slightly unnerving. After a second or two, he said, “I see Yari’s made your list.”
Oh great, now he was going to give me the low-down. “Look, Atticai, I meant no disrespect. She wanted to walk, and quite frankly, I needed to clear my head. If you’re seeing her—”
“Relax my friend, it’s not like that. I’m just letting you know that you might not want to get too close to her.”
“Let me guess: for my own good?”
His lips peeled back into a dark grin. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Thanks, but I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”
“Consider yourself warned.”
“Like I said, ‘thanks.’”
He nodded and put his seat back, and waved his hands in the air like a maestro. He rolled his head in my direction. “So what’s your story, Josiah?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ve seen a lot of stuff in my time. But I can only count on one hand how many times I’ve seen someone like you.”
“There can be only one,” I joked, wondering if he would get the cultural reference to Highlander. He didn’t.
He paused and I wondered just how old he was. He made it sound as if he was ancient. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me. He went on, “When we arrived to get Lena, there were five guys sprawled on the ground, all beat to a pulp by you.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t take much skill to beat up a few drunk, horny assholes.”
He was staring at me again. Someday I was going to wipe that weird stare off his face, but now was not the time. “Maybe,” he said. “But you also took care of Rubidoux, too. Do you know how tough Rubidoux is? He’s no pushover.”
“I can fight. I don’t know what else to say. That is the one thing I do know how to do and do well. It’s my greatest passion, my lifework, my pulse. I live to fight. I fight to live.”
“I like that. I like that a lot.” Atticai got real quiet. “Hey, check it out.” He finally found a classical music station. He cranked up the volume real loud. I didn’t recognize the piece, but it was classical, and that seemed to be all that was vital to Atticai. Presently, the long-limbed creature of the night seemed to be in a trance. He clenched his fists and raised them to his forehead. With his eyes closed, he tilted his head back and seemed to be experiencing each note individually. The music was doing something to him. It was ministering to his soul. For a brief moment, I envied him. I envied anyone that could be moved in this way over anything. The song ended, and Atticai opened his eyes. He looked at me. “That was pretty intense.”
“No kidding,” I said. “I guess you have a passion, too. I fight. You feel the music.”
He was staring at me again. Amazingly, I was getting used to it. “I like you, Josiah,” he said. He nodded, and then opened the driver’s side door. “Let’s head back so no one thinks anything homoerotic is going on.”
“I would hope not.”
“Oh, you have no idea around here, Josiah. You have no idea. Just remember what I told you about Yari.”
“Like I said, I’m a big boy; I can handle Yari.”
Atticai laughed. “Famous last words.”
We stepped out the van. I once again headed back to the clearing and planted myself on the same log next to the same bonfire. I looked around for Yari, but she was nowhere to be found. Lena, however, walked over to me and sat next to me on the log.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“With Atticai? I have no freaking idea. I think he was just trying to feel me out.”
“Atticai is like that. He doesn’t trust anyone. He likes you, though. I can tell. You have no idea how rare that is.”
“Well, one thing at a time. I’m still having a hard time digesting this entire night.”
“Why? Did Yari freak you out? Don’t let her do that.”
Lena almost seemed a tad jealous. I looked at her. She was beautiful, too. No, not everyone was beautiful here. There were some real creepy-looking guys and girls. Lena wasn’t one of them. So, how the hell did she get caught up in this world?
I asked, “So, is this what you do? Hang out with these people in the woods?”
“You mean since Eisenhower High?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She shrugged. “More or less. This lifestyle isn’t the norm. I know that. There’s a lot about this you’ll never fully understand.”
“What does that mean?”
“Trust me when I tell you that it is best not to know.”
Atticai, who had been talking to some guys near the van, high-fived a couple of them, and then headed over to us. No matter what, the man was a striking figure, and he seemed to command everyone’s attention. He was clearly the King Goth in this party of Goths. Of course, that wasn’t saying much. Still, as he headed over to us, just about everyone in the clan watched him at some point. And as he approached, Lena got up immediately, and Atticai slipped a long arm over her shoulders.
“I should probably get you two back home,” Atticai said. “It’s going to be sunrise in about two hours.”
I shrugged. “Sounds reasonable to me. I was just going out for a jog and seven hours later... here I am.”
“You guys are going back?” a voice said, from behind me.
I turned around and saw Yari standing there. I had no idea where she came from and why she would be behind me.
“Apparently, we’re leaving right now,” I said.
She smiled warmly at me. “Then I guess I’m going with you since neither Atticai nor Lena can drive.”
“Neither of you drives?” I blurted out, nearly laughing.
“Hey, I never got a license,” Atticai responded, shrugging.
Now, I did laugh. “Okay, now I’ve heard everything.”
If Atticai minded that I was laughing at him, he didn’t show it. A moment later, we all piled into the van, with Yari getting in the driver’s seat and me next to her in the front passenger’s seat. Lena and Atticai disappeared behind the back seats, in the space I had found myself in when I came to after passing out, post-blood sucking. I took only a quick glance at them, but they appeared to have disappeared under a blanket. What they were doing under the blanket, I didn’t want to know, but I could probably guess.
Yari reached out and touched my hand. “Put the seat back and get some sleep.”
I did as I was told, since I was utterly exhausted. And as I settled into the cushions, Yari drove the van out of the flatland rocks and made for the highway. As we drove, I found myself staring at her. She was acutely focused on the road. No surprise there, since there was a light fog over the winding, mountainous highway. She was an extremely fascinating woman. She was amazingly complex. I closed my eyes. I listened to the sound of the motor. The thrum of the pistons under the hood, in the absence of talking or music, was hypnotic and soothing.
“Wake up, Sleepyhead. We’re here.” I had clearly fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes, we were in front of my house. I said goodbye to everyone and stumbled out of the van.
Atticai called out, “Hey, J
osiah?”
“Yeah,” I answered sleepily.
“When’s your next fight?”
“Next month.”
“Cool, I’ll check it out.”
I wasn’t sure what to think about that. A part of me was hoping that this was going to be the last I’d see any of these guys. That is everyone, but Yari. And maybe Lena.
I nodded at Atticai and turned around and trudged off toward my front door. The van drove away, and I could feel many sets of eyes on me. As I opened the door, something occurred to my sluggish, sleep-deprived brain.
How did they know where I lived? Okay, that’s freaky. Then again, so was the entire night.
I shrugged. Maybe Lena knew someone from high school, who themselves knew where I lived. Or not. I was too tired to care, truth be known.
When I unlocked the door, I found Tommy doing sit ups in the living room. Tommy had an incredibly strict workout routine and this morning was no different.
Tommy stopped in mid-crunch and looked up at me. “That was some run.”
“You have no idea.” I went to the fridge and grabbed the milk carton.
“You okay?” Tommy seemed concerned.
“I’m okay. Why?”
“You’ve got a bandage on your wrist and a hickey on your neck the size of a basketball.”
I had forgotten about my injuries. Tommy got up from the floor and walked over to the kitchen table and sat down.
“What can I say? It was a night to remember.”
“Jo, you need to take it easy on the partying. Don’t forget, we find out who we’re fighting today.”
“This coming from the guy who partied away all his money,” I said.
“That was before, Jo. You know I have been working hard on getting myself back on the right track.”
“I know. I just need to get to bed right now. I’m utterly wiped.”
“So, you’re going to skip your morning workout?”
“As far as I’m concerned, it is still last night. Besides, I had quite the mixed martial art workout last night.”
“Ah, hell. Don’t tell me you got into another fight.”
I was quiet.
Tommy added, “You know we can get sued if anyone finds out who we are. We’re pro fighters and we can’t just go around fighting ‘regular Joes.’ You’re not fifteen anymore, bro, and you can’t just go around bashing people’s heads in.”
“I know. Trust me, I wasn’t intending to fight.”
“But let me guess: You just couldn’t help yourself, right?”
“Tommy, look, when I wake up, you can rip me ten new assholes, but right now I need to get some sleep.”
“All right, bro. Go to bed.”
I laughed, which took my last bit of energy. “Thanks and good night.”
As I stumbled down the hallway on my way to my bedroom, Tommy called out after me: “It’s morning, jerk off, and you never even asked me about my date!”
“You can tell me all about it when I wake up.”
Once in my bedroom, I plugged my headphones into my stereo and laid on my bed. I had a Queen CD in the deck. Freddy Mercury seemed particularly fitting, considering the night I had.
I closed my eyes, and I was out.
Chapter Eight
I didn’t sleep as soundly as I wanted to.
I tossed and turned throughout my slumber. Mostly, I kept dreaming about the surreal night I had. I dreamed about Atticai, Yari, and Lena. I dreamed of kicking college punks’ asses. I dreamed of dark clearings and birds and long kisses. Some of the dreams were extremely erotic. And other dreams were not so much. Additionally, my body was painfully sore from the bat. It was, in short, one of the worst sleeps I’ve ever had. I eventually couldn’t take it anymore and just got up. I looked at my cell phone. It was 2:00 p.m.
I got up, and my back was still killing me. Not that I expected the pain to go away magically, but, damn, it seemed even worse. I walked over to the bathroom and took the longest shower of my life. Even the spray of water hurt my back. Without looking at it in the mirror, I knew how big the bruise was and what color it was today. While the hot water blasted me, I took the bandage from my wrist and washed the wound, too. As I washed it, I took a close look at it. It was truly one of the most bizarre injuries I’d ever had. There were two perfect teeth marks on my wrist. Wyatt feasted on my arm something fierce. What the hell would possess a guy to do that?
I got out of the shower and was drying off when I heard a kee-eeeee-arr squawk at the window. It was Daphne, my little red hawk friend. She was peeking through the window.
“Hey, girl. You like what you see?” I did a little dance for her.
Daphne gave a shrill chwirk. I laughed. Apparently she liked my jig.
I went into my bedroom and looked at my cell phone. I had a missed a call. I didn’t recognize the number. It was local, so I called it back.
“Hello,” A girl’s voice said. A cute girl’s, too, if I was any judge of voices.
“I got a call from this number—”
“Josiah? It’s Lena.”
“Oh, hello. What’s going on?”
“I got your number from Johnny Wade.” Johnny Wade was an old partying buddy of mine that apparently Lena knew, as well. Six degrees of Kevin Bacon and all that. Johnny Wade knew everyone who knew someone that he knew. He was the real-life Kevin Bacon connection in our city.
“No problem, Lena. What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to somebody and...I don’t know... after last night, I thought I could talk to you.”
“I was about to head down to the gym, but I guess I can talk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, no problem. I had a pretty vigorous workout last night.”
“The fight or the time you spent with Yari in the woods?”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“Can we talk in person?”
“Sure, do you want me to pick you up?”
“That would be great. I’ll text you my address.”
“Cool, I’ll be there in a half hour.”
I got off the phone and sat on my bed in my towel. I looked at myself in the mirror. Tommy was right I had a hickey the size of New Jersey on my neck. It was the most impressive hickey ever. World class. Too bad it was from a guy. If anyone of my friends, outside of Vampireville, ever found out, I would never hear the end of it.
I got dressed and headed over to pick up Lena, not bothering to cover up my world-class neck badge of courage. I drove to the ghetto part of San Bernardino. And I do mean ghetto. Her address led me to a rundown trailer park where a horror movie could have been made, if someone wrote a script about a haunted trailer park. It was broken-glass, trash-strewn borderline epic. Just like everything connected with Lena was epic.
I pulled the truck into the community, and Lena was right at the front, waiting for me. She was wearing a black tank top with short black skirt. She playfully stuck out her thumb, pretending to be hitchhiking. I grinned and stopped my truck. She jumped into the passenger side.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey, there. Nice neighborhood,” I quipped.
“Don’t harsh my hood,” she bantered back. “We’re getting a mini-golf course as soon as the meth factory pays off big on the next batch.”
“Mad props, then,” I said sarcastically. I flipped a sassy U-turn and pulled onto the main highway. I glanced over at Lena. Her eyes stared straight ahead.
“So, what’s up, pretty girl?” I asked.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“I’m actually starving.” And she smiled for a flash at the “pretty girl” compliment, as it registered with her.
She offered, “We can go to this mom-and-pop burger joint on the corner. We can talk inside.”
“You sure? We’re not going to get shot or anything?”
“It’s not that terrible out here. People out here are meth-heads, not gangbangers.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when a meth-head sl
its my throat for the twenty dollars in my wallet.”
“Trust me, it’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.”
“You’ll protect me?” I laughed.
“What’s so funny about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a hundred pounds, dripping wet.”
“I can kick some serious butt if I have to.”
I glanced at Lena’s petite body. “I bet.”
“Pull over in there.” Lena pointed to a little diner on the corner. It had a sign out front that read “Burgers and Tacos.”
“Classy,” I said, pulling my truck into the driveway.
“Don’t be so mean. It’s affordable. It’s good. It’s a clean place. Nobody will bother us here.”
“So, what style of food do they serve here?” I asked. “I just hate when the name of a place gives you little idea what to expect. I mean, what if I want the prime rib but they are out of it and they try and bait-and-switch me to the petite filet mignon and offer A-1 Sauce with it? That would be a meat tragedy.”
Her mouth twitched in amusement. “I think they serve a little of everything. You might want to stay away from their roast lamb and mint jelly, though. It might really be mutton, you just never know.”
I laughed at our light banter and glanced at Lena. Our eyes met, and I didn’t say anything.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Or, well, I just think you should smile more often.”
“If you were as funny as you think you are, then maybe I would.”
“That so, huh? I didn’t realize Goth girls liked to laugh.”
“Goth girl? Is that how you see me? You think I’m some kind of ‘emo’ weirdo who cuts herself, starves herself and longs for death?”
“In a ‘Suicide Girls’ sort of way, you do wear a lot of black and your friends are pretty out there.”
“Black is an amazing color. Everyone could use a little more black in their wardrobe,” Lena said, looking at my colorful Ed Hardy T-shirt. “You might also want to let your legs breathe, ‘cause those jeans are snug.”