H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set (97 page)

I woke up late on a Saturday afternoon, as
that seemed to be the norm these days, considering I was keeping
Patrick’s vampire hours. I was having the sleep pattern of a
vampire and that wasn’t the healthiest way to live my life. I know
the value of a good night’s sleep, as I am a fighter, but I was
having too much fun to worry about that right now.

I had fallen asleep on the couch, watching
some morning show. I had to look through the bars of the cage to
watch TV, but if I tilted my head just right I could see the
television without seeing any bars. Oh, the little things.

I got up and grabbed some orange juice from
the fridge and took out some eggs and made myself an omelet. I
wasn’t the greatest cook, but I knew how to make eggs. It was two
in the afternoon and both Patrick and Sasha were still asleep. I
didn’t want to wake either of them and I was enjoying my omelet a
little too much to share it.

I went into my room and changed and decided
to go for a ride and pick some things up at the farmer’s market.
There was a giant one that I especially liked in San Bernardino. I
needed to start eating healthy again because I was healing up. My
shoulder was still jacked up and my arm still looked like a dog had
gotten to it. It would be a few months before I could really train
the way I was accustomed to. So, for now, I was going to have to
let my undefeated record stay idle for a few more months.

I had checked in with the Commission last
week to let them know how I was doing. We were aiming for me to
fight again in six months. That should be plenty of time for me to
get right again.

I went out to my car and could hear every
siren, call door, and car alarm in a three-mile radius. I was
learning to ignore it, but I couldn’t believe I was actually
sympathizing with canines. I drove up the 91 freeway toward San
Bernardino. I hadn’t paid much attention to the gas gauge as I
pulled off the freeway onto “D” street. I looked down and I noticed
it was on empty. I needed to find a gas station fast. I looked
around and there wasn’t one to be found in any direction. So, I
kept driving, hoping to run into something, but it was too late. My
car did that regurgitate noise that cars do right before they run
out of gas. You know that dry heave that comes out of your
engine.

I knew my car was done and it desperately
needed some gas. I coasted to the right and parked on the street. I
had no idea where the next gas station was and, unfortunately, I
forgot my cell phone at my apartment. I knew I had to get out and
walk but, luckily, I had a gas container in my trunk. I grabbed it
and started hiking up the street.

I walked about three miles until I finally
saw a gas station on the left. I decided to take a short cut by
cutting through a back alley.

I walked around a corner building and heard
some commotion. I ducked behind a trash dumpster and looked out to
what appeared to be some type of altercation. There were a group of
high school kids in a circle, all confronting a tall, gangly kid
wearing a black hood. I could tell he was young by the way he
talked. He appeared to have been at the wrong place at the wrong
time. I could relate to that.

The kid in the black hood was outnumbered
four to one. “You really should just let me go,” the young man
said. “I really don’t want any trouble.” Unfortunately, by the look
of these guys, they were all about trouble. I watched on and then
heard something that shocked the hell out of me. The boy in the
black hood made a specific demand to the group of thugs that had
surrounded him. He said, “You have ten seconds to let me go through
or I’m going to kick everyone one of your asses and not feel bad
about it.”

Holy crap! Are you kidding me? The balls on
this kid!

The group of thugs looked at each other and
just busted up laughing. Every single of the other guys were taller
and wider than the young man. But that didn’t stop the kid from
doing a count down, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, oh
fuck it,” the black-hooded kid said, “Now, I will kick your
asses!”

Are you kidding me!

I was about to jump out and make sure it was
a fair fight, but this kid didn’t need my help. He attacked them
all like a superhero defending his city from super villains. I felt
like I was watching an action movie where you root for the
underdog; this young man quickly proved that he was no underdog! He
beat them up individually, in pairs, and at one point, the kid had
one in a headlock while high-kicking another, and with his free
hand, he right crossed another guy, knocking him to the pavement.
He wiped the floor with these guys in a matter of seconds. I wanted
to walk out and give him a standing ovation; it was by far the
coolest thing I had ever seen on the street. This fourteen-year-old
kid either knocked them out or they ran off in fear of another
beating.

He finished off the last guy and wiped his
hands. He looked at his masterpiece: three guys laying on the
ground and a fourth one a mile down the street. He smiled as if he
had just finished planting a garden. He sighed and the turned
toward where I was standing behind the Dumpster. He smiled at me
and nodded his head in triumph.

“Hey,” I yelled to him, “What are you? Some
kind of black-headed Superhero?”

“Who’s asking?”

“I am, you little shit,” I said.

“You have a name?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure do. My name is Tommy.” I looked
at this kid and he hadn’t even broken a sweat. “You’re about the
baddest motherfucker I have ever seen fight. What’s your name?”

The kid pulled off his black hood and he had
long, flowing blond hair. He grinned at me with his piercing blue
eyes. “Well, Tommy. I’m glad you enjoyed the show. My name is
Josiah.”

Chapter Twelve

I stared at this blonde-haired, blue-eyed
kid and was astounded that he had just taken out four guys like
they were kindergartners.

“Josiah, huh? Sounds biblical. Do you have
God on your side?”

He smirked. “I might have an angel or two
watching my back.” Josiah wiped his brow and stretched his neck and
then said to me, “You’re not some creep hanging out in alleys, are
you?”

For the first time, I noticed his stance.
Even though we were having a peaceful exchange in dialogue, his
footwork would say otherwise. The kid was a trained fighter. Only
someone who has Jujitsu training or some kind of boxing training
would stand with his momentum potentially ready to spring forward.
He wasn’t sure if he could trust me. How could I blame him? I was a
twenty-two year old man in a bad part of town hanging around
Dumpsters. I was probably sweaty and dirty from my three-mile
hike.

“Well, you’re in luck,” I said. “I’m not a
creep. Even if I was, I don’t think I would want to mess with you
after that display.” I once again noticed his body language and
this punk still wasn’t sure if he could trust me. “Hey, Josiah,” I
said calmly. “Stand down. I’m one of the good guys.”

He looked at me with a curious stare. “How
did you know I was on my guard?”

“I’m a professional fighter and your body
language displays that in a blink of an eye, you’re ready to
protect yourself.”

“You can tell that by just looking at
me?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I could also tell you were
in protective stance and didn’t want to attack me. It’s subtle, but
a guy like me can see it a mile away.”

“Wow, you really know what you’re talking
about.” Josiah eyes widened and then he finally relaxed. “A
professional fighter? So, you get paid for it?”

“That would make it professional,” I
answered, with a little snark in my voice.

“Where do you fight?”

“I’m in the California Commissioned
MMA.”

“Bullshit!” Josiah was impressed.

I grinned. “I’m 2 and 0.” Why I felt I
needed to validate myself to a young teenager was beyond me, but I
guess after what I just witnessed, he deserved it.

Josiah looked at me with his piercing blue
eyes and then his eyes brightened, “Wait! Did you say your name is
Tommy? Did you fight a couple of weeks ago at the Staples
Center?”

“Yeah, I sure did.”

“That is so awesome. I was there. I had
horrible seats, but I remember your match. You kicked the crap out
of the guy while only using your left arm.”

“You saw that?”

“Yeah.”

“You could tell I was only using the left
side of my body?”

“Yeah, I was thinking this guy is so good
he’s fighting his opponent with one arm tied behind his back.”

“Trust me, it felt that way. I had an injury
to my right shoulder.”

“I figured as much, unless you’re such a
badass that you only fight guys one-handed.”

“I’m impressed you noticed that. Not even in
the write-up on Yahoo was that mentioned.”

“How could I not? My right hand is my bread
and butter. The first thing I watch in every fight is how explosive
an opponent’s right arsenal is.”

“Are you training?”

“I’m a boxer.”

“That’s a good place to start. Are you any
good?”

“What do you think?”

I looked at the spot where he easily took
care of four guys and laughed. “I guess so.”

“I’ve been Golden Gloves champ three years
in a row.”

“That is impressive. You plan on doing the
Olympics?”

“Hell, no! My dad would love that. But, I
want to do what you do. Olympics are a waste of time. There is no
real money there. I want to get into the ring the second I’m 18 and
kick ass as much as I can.”

“Well, you’re off to a good start!” I said,
with obvious intentions.

Josiah looked down the street and noticed
the guys he kicked the crap out of had gotten up and left. “Hey,
Tommy Boy, we better split, I have a feeling those guys will be
back with a few more friends, if you know what I’m saying. Unless
you’re prepared to fight about twenty guys with me, we should take
off.” I nodded and followed Josiah in the opposite direction I had
come from. “By the way, what is a MMA fighter doing in an alley?
You buying crack?”

“Not quite, my car ran out of gas.”

“Oh, that sucks. Where’s it at?”

“A couple miles back near the freeway.”

Josiah pulled out his cell phone. “Let’s go
to this Starbucks that’s down the street and I’ll have my sister
come pick us up. Then we’ll drive you to a gas station.”

“Ah shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered. I left my gas can back
there by the Dumpster.”

“Don’t worry,” Josiah said. “Well get one at
the station.”

“They are like twenty dollars.”

“Who said anything about paying for it?”
Josiah winked at me and I shook my head at the young punk. I had to
admit, I really liked him. He reminded me of myself, a little more
out of control, but he was definitely a cool kid.

We made our way to the Starbucks and sat
down. Josiah called his sister and she told him she would pick him
up in about ten minutes.

I looked at Josiah and he seemed to have an
insane amount of poise for a kid his age. He sat there with the
confidence of three grown men. “Are you thirsty?” I asked.

“I don’t drink this stuff,” Josiah laughed.
“They are just caffeinated shakes.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. You’re
better off getting a real milkshake; you would have less of a
chance at heart attack.”

Josiah’s eyes lit up, “But I love their cake
lollypops. They are only like 150 calories. It’s like God himself
baked them.”

“God himself? He would make some cook!” I
laughed.

“Dude, you have got to try one. I had a
mouth orgasm the first time I had one. My sister likes rocky road,
but I’m in lust with the birthday cake one.”

“Let’s do it,” I said. “I need to splurge
now and then.” I got up and walked over to the counter where a
there was a cute blonde putting out items behind the display area.
She stopped what she was doing and looked up at me.

“I would like two cake lollipops, one rocky
road and one birthday cake.”

“Oh, I love the rocky road,” the young
blonde girl said. “They are to die for.”

“Apparently so, my friend claims they were
made by Jesus himself.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, smiling.
“Maybe an angel or wise man.”

“There you go, I guess everyone agrees that
there is some divine intervention taking place when these things
get made.”

“You just might be right.” She rang me up
and I paid for the lollipops and put a two-dollar tip in the jar.
The cute ones get me every time. I took the rocky road and gave the
birthday cake to my new friend.

“Thanks, man,” he said. “I’ll get you next
time.” Josiah took a bite out of his birthday cake lollipop and
closed his eyes and had what I swore to be a spiritual experience.
He ate each bite slowly, savoring each nibble as if it was his last
meal. When he finished, he looked up at me and said, “Better than
sex.”

“What do you know about sex? You’re like
fourteen years old.”

“I’m sixteen,” Josiah said, proudly, “or I
will be, in a week.”

“And you know about sex?”

“I know about orgasms!” he proclaimed out
loud.

“I believe that. You probably spend more
time alone than a monk.”

Josiah was quiet and grinned. “I do have a
wild imagination. Trust me, if I wanted to, I would have plenty of
options.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I want to real bad. I’m
just not quite sure what my hang-up is.”

“Maybe cause you’re twelve years old.”

“I’m almost sixteen!”

I looked at this strange, honest kid and had
to just smile. “Does Josiah want to wait until he’s in love?”

“What’s wrong with that?” he answered,
indignantly.

He did! I had to admit I was impressed. I
wasn’t about to give a teenager a hard time about being abstinent.
I just smiled at him and said, “There’s nothing wrong with it. When
you’re ready, you’ll know.”