The Kazak Guardians (2 page)

"Hey, Lynn, how do you like the late shift?" Sally, the other night waitress, asked during a slow period. She stood an inch or so shorter than me, slightly plump with a round face, dyed-blond hair, and a bubbly personality. I liked her right away.

"Better than I thought. The salary isn't good but the tips have been. People seem to have a lot of money to throw around, especially those who have had a good night at the tables." It looked like I'd average four to five hundred a week in tips. If I was correct, my income including wages would be close to forty thousand a year.

"You're new in town. If you don't mind me asking, where are you staying?"

"Right now, in churches," I said with a shrug.

"I know how that can be. This town isn't cheap. I and four other girls share a flat just off the main strip. We could use one more if you're willing to do your share of cleaning and cooking. And, of course, pay your share of the rent. It isn't as crowded as it sounds. There's never more than two or three of us there at any given time due to our varied shifts."

"What about the other girls? Will they mind another person?" I wondered if Sally was just being her usual sweet self or if the others really wouldn't mind another roommate.

"We just lost one girl so we have room, and it'll lower our share of the rent. Everyone will like that. Come with me after shift and you can meet the girls." She gave a small laugh before running off to serve a couple who had just sat down.

After our shift, I followed Sally to her apartment building. It was a third-floor unit with no elevator. When we entered, it reminded me of my many foster homes. Five to a room made for a mess, especially when no one cared. At least here, there would only be two to a room. Sally claimed the roommates were paired as well as possible so that their shifts made for some privacy. One small redhead sat on a worn couch reading. A cup of something rested on a beat-up end table next to her. As Sally closed the door, a tall blond came wandering out of the bathroom.

"Mary, Sue, I'd like you to meet Lynn. She works the late shift with me and needs a place to live. I thought she could replace Janet," Sally said, while pulling me forward.

"Hi, Lynn. Where are you living now?" the blond asked, while continuing to towel her wet hair. The redhead stopped reading and removed one of her in-ear headphones.

"St. Elizabeth, Guardian Angel, Victory Missionary, and others," I shrugged. She laughed.

"The Victory Missionary isn't bad. I stayed there off and on. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't been kicked out of someplace else or... " She smiled, leaving the sentence hanging. She had a right to be concerned. My face still had bruises, and Sally had only known me for a few days. "Fine with me. Your share of the rent is four hundred a month. We figure the cost of food at the end of each week. It usually runs around two hundred a month. I'm sure Jo and Betty won't mind. They hate cleaning and pretty much anything except partying."

"OK," I said after thinking it over. Talking with Sally and tallying what I made over the past week, I'd bring in a minimum of four hundred a week. That would leave me over two thousand a month, less whatever the casino deducted for taxes. Sally had said that would run around six hundred a month. I couldn't imagine needing that much money.

"Although it doesn't look like it right now, we take turns cleaning," Sally said with a big grin.

***

Over the next couple of months I settled into a dull routine. I didn't mind. I had escaped the foster home merry-go-round with its careless keepers, had a job, money of my own, and freedom to do what I wanted. Ironically, there wasn't much I wanted to do, so most of the money went into the bank. I bought inexpensive clothes, ate out occasionally at reasonably-priced places, and took in a show now and again to break the monotony. I planned to save enough money to attend one of the casino dealer schools, in hopes of landing a job dealing at one of the casinos.

I met Gabe one night just before my shift ended.

"Hi. I'm Gabe," he said as he sat down. In his early twenties, he appeared close to six foot, had a medium build, short sandy-blond hair in a buzz cut, and a nice smile on this square-jawed face. Not bad looking if I had been in the market for a boyfriend. I wasn't.

"Hi, Gabe. What can I get you?" I nodded but didn't smile, hoping to discourage any attempt at getting a date.

"Sorry. I wasn't hitting on you." He seemed to have read my mind. "You're new and I just wanted to say hello. I work the bar on the night shift. How about coffee, a couple of eggs over easy, and toast."

"Sure, want milk for the coffee?"

"Please."

He didn't try making any further conversation while I served him his breakfast. He dropped a reasonable tip as he rose to leave.

"Thanks." He nodded as he left. I had been terse with him. Something I wouldn't have done to any other customer, even though some did try hitting on me. A boyfriend, much less a relationship, wasn't what I wanted right now. I was off men. Most of my foster homes were in gang-infested neighborhoods. Since no one cared about foster kids, we were fair game for every bullyboy at school or tough on the streets. Most of the kids gave in, subjugating to the gang or their tormentor. It was easier that way. I had fought. Sometimes I won, but mostly I lost. In the foster homes, it was no better. The husbands or boyfriends thought the girls were there for their amusement. Abuse and rape were not uncommon. And my recent abduction by the three whatever-they-were only added to my reluctance. I didn't know when or if I'd be ready to join the dating scene. When I saw him several weeks later, I noticed he had a finger taped.

"Hi, Gabe. I'm sorry about last time. Sally said you're a good guy."

"Did she mention why?" he said with a cheerful grin.

"She did say that I had to be nice to you otherwise she wouldn't get the other half." Actually, Sally had said he was friendly but not pushy like some of the men who worked in the casino. "What happened to your finger? Get it caught in one of the slots?"

"Don't touch the slots or the tables. They're for suckers. They'll tell you how much they won at a machine or the tables but not how much they spent before they won. Those
winners
paid for these billion-dollar casinos. No, I workout at a local Kung Fu studio. We were practicing a new technique and my finger got in the way of someone's foot." He snorted and grinned.

"Kung Fu?" I wasn't sure, but I thought it involved some sort of fighting.

"Yep, something like Karate but softer. It tends to use an opponent's force against him, rather than the other way around." His eyes lit up as he talked.

We talked a lot over the next few months, frequently over breakfast after our shifts ended. He hinted at a date but never pushed the issue.

After months of listening to him talk about Kung Fu and the classes he attended, I decided to try it. It sounded like something I could have used during my time in foster care and on the road to Vegas. I knew it wouldn't have enabled me to win against those three men. But maybe I wouldn't feel so helpless if there were a next time.

One evening Gabe took me to meet his instructor. The building was located in an area that dealt in wholesale rather than retail products: car parts, plumbing supplies, glass, etc. Consequently, it was isolated from the main traffic areas. It looked like an old garage from the outside. A sign over the door read
Chinese Martial Arts
. Inside, it was clean and well maintained. A small counter, just inside the door, had a glass display case containing a variety of T-shirts, workout clothing, and what looked like slippers. A young woman was standing behind the counter when we entered. She had long blond hair tied in a tail, a narrow face with bright blue eyes, and a black shirt with a round patch with a cobra inside.

"Hi, Gabe. Who's your friend?"

"Lynn, this is Kate. She studies a form of Kung Fu that imitates the fighting style of a snake."

"Hi, Lynn. You'll like it here. The Karate dojos tend to be mostly macho men and the style more muscle and strength. It's different here. Master Jianyu teaches several different styles, so you can find the one that suits you. And there are quite a few of us women."

I nodded and followed Gabe into a large room with old wooden floors. A small Chinese-looking man stood watching a woman and a man repeating a sequence of moves. He said something to the pair and met us halfway across the room. Gabe bowed without saying anything. I just stood there not sure what to do.

"Master Jianyu, I'd like you to meet Lynn. She's a friend of mine and is interested in joining your class," Gabe said. Standing there, Jianyu looked old, frail, and harmless; however, his eyes said he wasn't what he appeared to be.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lynn. Are you considering joining one of my classes?" he asked softly, while his gray-green eyes seemed to look inside me.

"Yes, Master Jianyu. Gabe talks about your classes all the time."

"May I ask why you wish to learn how to fight?"

"I
...
On my way to Vegas, I was abused by three men for their amusement and raped by one. I don't know how I could have prevented it; however, maybe if I can defend myself, I can keep that from happening again," I said with my jaw tight. I didn't like talking about it, but I wasn't to blame-they were. I stared at Jianyu as if he were somehow responsible for that, along with the abuse and neglect I had suffered under the protection of the state-run foster care system. He didn't seem to take offense. Gabe stood there with his mouth hanging open.

"You want revenge?" He didn't appear shocked or sorry for me, just curious. I don't know what I'd expected, but it wasn't calm acceptance. Did I want revenge? In truth, I hoped never to see those three men again in my lifetime.

"No. I just don't want to be that vulnerable again." I thought it strange that Jianyu was so easy to talk to. I hadn't told my roommates or Gabe, whom I considered a friend.

"You may join the class, if you wish. I wouldn't teach Kung Fu to anyone who sought revenge, thought it a good way to resolve differences, or enjoyed fighting. That may sound strange because Kung Fu is a martial art, but I'm a Taoist and don't believe in violence except as a last resort."

***

Gabe and I became close friends, attending classes and spending hours practicing together. It helped that he never attempted to date me. I think he sensed that I wasn't ready. In the beginning, the classes focused on developing flexibility and learning a variety of stances and forms that helped reinforce basic techniques through repetition. After I got over being constantly sore from the exercises, I enjoyed the classes and always felt relaxed and energized afterward. Gabe studied the Shaolin five-animal system, which was considered an external style and more physical. I gravitated toward the Wudang system, which was considered an internal style and used your opponent's force against him. I not only enjoyed it but excelled at it. I found it took only a subtle movement at the right time to throw my opponent off balance and give me an advantage.

"You're doing well in class and are able to hold your own against some of the more advanced students. More importantly, you seem to be enjoying yourself," Gabe said, while munching on a French fry. I laughed.

"Yes, the classes are wonderful. I owe you for getting me involved. It has helped in many ways." I patted his arm and smiled. I was enjoying myself. And I felt more confident about defending myself, or if nothing else, the ability to throw a troublemaker off balance and run. "You're a good friend, Gabe, and I feel comfortable around you, which is far more of a compliment than you may realize."

"It's funny, Lynn. In the beginning, I was angling for a date and maybe a relationship, but over time, you've become more like a little sister to me. I find that much more satisfying."

Two years came and went, and still my life remained simple. I continued to work the late shift, attended Kung Fu classes before my shift, helped with the chores at the apartment, and attended an occasional show or dinner with Gabe, when he wasn't dating. Because I wasn't spending money on clothes or jewelry, my bank account grew by more than a thousand dollars a month. I'd finished gaming school and qualified for a casino dealer job. But I procrastinated. My present routine was comfortable and I wasn't sure I wanted to change it. My shift had just finished when Gabe came flying into the cafe. I waited as he fought to catch his breath.

"Lynn, you're never going to believe what I heard. I'm going. You should too." He was still breathing hard. He must have run all the way here from somewhere.

"Where are you going and why should I?"

"The Kazak school will be accepting candidates next month. I'm going."

"What is the Kazak school and why do I want to go?" I asked. I knew I didn't want to go back to school. And I doubted any school wanted me. Gabe finally caught his breath.

"The Kazak school accepts applicants once every two years. It's a competition. Those that can survive the training graduate as Kazaks. They are elite bodyguards who protect important people. You work for some organization, maybe the Feds. I heard Kazaks learn fighting skills equal to a master in martial arts."

Gabe acted like a man going on his first date. He spent the rest of the night telling me what he knew about the process and the relationship between the Kazaks, their VIPs, and assassins. "The professional Assassins are the hardest to defend against because they have special powers. There are several kinds: Liar, Illusion, and Ghost Assassins, among others-"

I jumped up, knocking my chair backward and drawing lots of stares. I suddenly knew that the three men who had amused themselves with me were professional Assassins. One had been able to change his looks, another lied well enough to make me believe everything he said, and the third could make himself invisible. I intended to go with Gabe no matter the consequences.

"I'll go. When do we leave?" I blurted before I realized it. Gabe's head jerked up. I don't think he believed I'd leave Las Vegas for any reason. I certainly had said so often enough.