H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set (113 page)

Maya said my howls and yelps have gotten
better. The only thing that feels different is my voice. Howling
does a job on the howler’s vocal cords. Maya said that she could
now confirm that I had a sexy howl. I guess my howl is a lot sexier
when I’m not trapped in a cage with a female werewolf. I guess
that’s just another ‘sexy’ to throw on top of everything else I
possess.

One thing started happening to me, however.
I had gone into a funk from not being able to compete in the ring.
I am a fighter, and it was time for me to get back on the horse and
start training.

But Maya had never seemed too supportive
when it came to my fighting for a living. She understood that I
love it, and that is why she supported me. But I know she wished I
would just go to school and become a coach or something regular.
There was a problem with that. There is nothing about me that was
regular. I lived to be outside the box. I know she struggled with
allowing me to be who I am versus who the person she hoped I would
be. I think all women struggle with that sentiment. They love their
man, but they also think they know what’s best for him.

I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m. When my alarm
sounded in the morning, I nearly cried out in sleepy misery. The
last thing I wanted to do is get up ‘Rocky style’ and run around
the city of Anaheim Hills.

That’s a good thing about having a live-in
girlfriend. Even if she entirely didn’t support me, she would at
least support me being fit. She loved my body more than I did.

“Tommy, get up!” Maya yelled from her side
of the bed.

“For the love of God, why is the alarm going
off?” I slammed the alarm with my hand and nearly broke it. I
ripped the cord out of the wall, and laid back down on my side of
the bed.

“Did we forget that we were planning on
running this morning?” Maya asked.

“We?” I asked. “I didn’t realize this was a
couple’s weekend regimen.”

“We, as in you. You, as in get your ass up
and start jogging because I don’t want to hear you complain all day
that you should have run.”

“Will you at least make a man his
breakfast?” I said in my cocky, but you-know-I’m-kidding voice.

“At 5:30 in the morning? Don’t think so,
Lance Armstrong Wake me up at 9:00, and you can make me
breakfast.”

“Really?” I asked. “I don’t get anything
extra for all that sweet love I gave last night?”

“Didn’t realize that you were working so
hard, so you would get a steak and eggs breakfast in the
morning?”

“I was working hard for you,” I said. “All a
man can ask for is for his girlfriend to return the favor.”

“Wow, you are really working it.”

I smiled at Maya so she knew I was okay with
her going back to sleep. I stood up and put on my plastics.
Plastics are what MMA fighters, boxers, wrestlers, or anyone else
who needs to cut weight wears underneath their sweats when you work
out. It makes it so your sweat glands becomes water works. I have
cut as much as 12 pounds in one run. I wasn’t planning and cutting
any weight today, however, although, I need to lose ten pounds at
some point before my next match.

I continued to put on my clothes and Maya
said, “You want to know who is already jogging at this moment?”
Maya said.

“Your little brother,” I answered, half
disgusted.

“That’s right. He runs twenty miles a week.
So, if that is what your competition is doing, then you had better
be working just as hard.”

“Competition? Look, don’t get me wrong, your
brother is a tough son of a bitch. But he isn’t, or ever will be my
competition.”

“I’ll let him know that,” Maya said, smiling
at me.

“Is that supposed to make me scared? I know
you think Josiah can kick my ass. But, let’s get this straight.
One, we’ll never fight each other because that kid will be a
heavyweight by the time he goes pro with the way he eats. Secondly,
we spar a lot. He’s a great boxer, but once I get him on the mat, I
can toy with him.”

“Look at you.” Maya looked at me with a
spark in her eye. “All it took was bringing up my 16-year-old
brother and now I got your motor roaring.”

“Very funny. You’re going to make me hate
the kid if you keep saying things like that.”

“How can anyone hate Josiah? He is so
cute.”

“Just remember how cute he looked in his
little yellow ‘Man at Work’ Speedos.”

“I was doing so good at getting that image
out of my head.”

“Hey, if you’re not going to play fair,
neither am I,” I laughed. I put on the rest of my gear, kissed Maya
on her lips, and took off out of my front door.

* * *

When I got back from running, my fantastic
girlfriend had made me an egg-white omelet. She was wonderful. She
had gotten up and went to the all-night market to buy egg whites,
vegetables, and fruit while I ran the streets of Anaheim Hills. She
put together a real nice, healthy spread for me as I walked into my
apartment. She was wearing a cute little apron, and went all out in
serving me. I wasn’t one to ever assume a woman should do this for
me, but when it happened, it is quite wonderful.

I thanked her with a shoulder massage and
some TLC. Maya and I were really romantic when it came to the
affection we gave one another. It was one of things that kept us
grounded and in love. Just her touch told me how much she loved me.
I tried to make her feel the same way in how I took my time in
caressing her.

“You’re an amazing woman,” I said.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I wouldn’t class me as an amazing woman,” I
said. “I do have long eyelashes that look really good when I go as
a girl for Halloween.”

“I’m going to have to put your eyelashes to
the test later. I need to see how pretty my man can get.”

We kissed and hugged and rested next to one
another on our bed. Maya and I made love all the time, but today
was something more. Today, I think we both just wanted to
experience each other as people. Sex has a time and place. I knew I
had found what I always been seeking in a woman when just the
thought of spending time with her excited me.

We spent the whole day together lying around
watching TV. That night, Maya and I went to the movie and saw a
gangster movie. The movie got me thinking about my own life and the
kind of person I’d become. In the movie, the main character was
brought into the gangster life unwillingly. He needed to either
embrace it, or fight it off. The character never quite embraced it,
and it didn’t turn out well for him.

When the movie ended, I just sat in my seat
staring at the credits. This flick was a metaphor for my own
survival. I needed to embrace my new world. And the only way that
was going to happen was going to need to meet others like me and
befriend them. Otherwise, I’d be a lone wolf. And lone wolves get
devoured by lions. It was simple. I needed to find my pack.

“What are you thinking about?” Maya
asked.

I smiled and stood up. “I was just thinking
about how sexy you are,” I said.

“Seriously?”

“Your sexiness is on my mind 24 hours a day.
I just might need to wean myself off of it a tad.”

“I hope not,” Maya laughed. “Because I’m
addicted to you.”

I leaned down and gave my girlfriend a giant
kiss and we headed out of theater.

After the movie, Maya and I came home and
cuddled watched a brand new show called Chelsea Lately. At some
point in the thirty-minute show, Maya dozed off.

I decided to get up and get something to
drink. I went out of the room so I wouldn’t disturb her. I had a
laptop on the kitchen table. I grabbed a light beer from the fridge
and decided to have a seat at the kitchen table and get on the
internet. I had never done any type of werewolf research before and
wasn’t quite sure where to begin. But, I thought it was time for me
to learn a little more about my own kind. I knew the folklore that
was on Wikipedia was mostly myth, but I was sure that some of it
was true. I scoped out the Wikipedia page and I learned that is
believed that some humans can drink the water that is in the
footprints of a wolf and turn into a werewolf. Reality and fiction
are usually never far off, but even that seemed preposterous.

I decided to type information about
werewolves into Google to seek them out in the real world. I saw a
lot of listings for wolf bars. I was pretty sure that is a
subculture in the gay community. But, there was a bar that had a
weird statement at the end of their advertisement listing. It read
‘Carni-vores welcome!’

I stared at the way they spelled Carnivores.
They separated it at the word Carni and vores. I think that is a
clue for someone like me. It was worth a shot to go check it out.
If it turned out to be a gay bar, I’d just get my groove on to some
“Dancing Queen” and “YMCA.” Who knew, I might even throw off my
shirt and put on a show for the boys.

I continued to look for any other bars that
might have clues in the listing. I saw a couple more bars and
restaurants in Los Angeles that ended their advertisement with the
same quote: ‘Carni-vores welcomed. It must have been some kind of
hidden language. It appeared as if they were promoting a steakhouse
or some kind of meat extravaganza with the statement. I had a
strong feeling that it was letting werewolves know that those
establishments were werewolf-friendly. There was only one way to
find out. I had to go check out one of these listings. The way I
figured, what better time than the present to seek out my own
kind?

I was worried about leaving Maya alone. I
had bought extra locks for the windows and doors, but I still
didn’t feel comfortable sneaking off. Against my better judgment, I
grabbed my keys in a way that ensured they wouldn’t clink against
each other. I already wore a pair of jeans with a white T-shirt. I
grabbed my shoes that I had left by the door and decided to sneak
out, putting them on outside the door. I made sure Maya was safely
locked in. I checked every window around the apartment and they
were all secured. No one was getting in. Plus, I didn’t have many
enemies these days. I had kept my nose clean for a while.

I got in my Mustang and took off toward Los
Angeles. It was time to see if my hunch was right. The
“Carni-vore-friendly” bar was at the edge of West Hollywood and Los
Angeles on Santa Monica Boulevard. It took me about 30 minutes to
get there at 12:30 in the morning.

The bar’s name was ‘The Bottom!’ I guess it
could have been a gay bar, but there was no hint of that from the
parking lot. The bar didn’t have a rainbow flag draped over the
outside to let gay guys know the establishment was gay friendly.
This place was either a really underground gay bar, or it was an
underground werewolf bar. I was obviously hoping for the latter. My
hunch was slightly more validated with the sea of Harleys parked
out front.

The bar was in a rundown shopping center
that had typical little businesses in this part of town. There was
a tanning place, a Thai massage joint, and a liquor store where I’m
sure they’d sell just about anything to its customers at the right
price.

I had to park on a side street because the
parking lot was full. I locked my car and grabbed my leather jacket
from my back seat, and I walked to the sidewalk that led to the
parking lot. I made my way to the front entrance that had a very
large, burly man at the front sitting on a stool. His teeth were
yellow and he smelled of scotch. It was obvious that this guy had
been throwing them back something reckless since earlier in the
day.

I walked up to the man and flashed him my
I.D. He looked down at me and gave me the full head-to-toe
once-over. “You cool?” he asked.

Cool? That could mean a thousand different
things. But I knew the best answer was, “Yes, I’m cool.”

He stared at me as if he was trying to read
my soul. I was pretty sure a dope like him didn’t have any
supernatural powers, but these days, you never know. Finally, he
said, “All right, come in.”

“Thanks,” I said, not sure what to say to a
guy who didn’t seem too confident about letting me into his
establishment.

As I passed him, he threw one out one more
golden nugget, “Don’t hit on the bartender. That’s my girl.”

“I don’t shit where I eat,” I said. “So, you
have nothing to worry about, Tiny.” I made my way past the doorman.
I looked at the bartender and she was a big girl. Not tall, but a
really big woman. Pretty face, but she had me in pounds. She had
most men in this joint in pounds. Even if I didn’t have a
girlfriend, the doorman didn’t have anything to worry about. My
beer goggles usually stopped at a red light if a woman could fight
in a higher weight class than me.

There seemed to be a lot of men in the bar.
Again, I wondered if it was a gay bar. It did have a few scantily
dressed woman throughout the place—they seemed to be the focus of
most men in the bar.

I just think that this bar happened to be a
sausage fest. Sausage-fest bars are great. Men can be men. That’s
why sports bars work. This wasn’t a sports bar, however. There were
no sports on the tube. As a matter of fact, there were three TV’s.
Only one of them was turned on and an animal channel broadcasted a
documentary show about wolves. ‘Second clue,’ I wondered.

I found an empty bar stool at the main bar
and sat in it. The bartender came over to me. She was a burly woman
whose physique matched Mr. Burly Doorman’s. She struck me as
no-nonsense type of gal. “What are you drinking?” She asked in a
very tough, but oddly feminine way.

“I’ll have a shot of tequila with a Coors
Light chaser.”

The bartender stared at me as if I was
fucking with her. When she realized I was dead serious, she smiled
and slowly turned her head and said, “You got it. Tequila with a
Coors Light chaser. What kind of tequila?”