Vampire Love Story (2 page)

“Well, that’s what we were trying to do until you decided to be a tease.” This guy was a piece of work. He had more freckles than any twenty year old man I had ever seen. He was heavy set and could use some time in the gym.

Ron smirked and started to walk towards us. Ron was about my height, but he outweighed me by seventy pounds. He looked like an oversized Raggedy Andy doll. Or, maybe the guy who ate an oversized Raggedy Andy doll.

“Don’t come near us!” Lena grabbed my arm.

“Who is this guy?” Ron ignored Lena. In fact, he walked right up to my face.

I said, “I’m going to take her home.” I was very calm and in control. Deep breaths. I could feel myself flustering. I didn’t like guys coming up to my face.

“Who the hell are you?” asked Ron. He stepped closer to me. I could smell alcohol on his breath.

“Just go back inside,” I said to Ron. “Go back to your party.” I took a step back to appear less confrontational.

“And what if I don’t want to go back to my party?” Ron took another step towards me. A bigger step. A very
stupid
step.

I looked at this guy. I would get kicked out of Mixed Martial Arts for even entertaining to fight a guy this out of shape. I had to keep my nose clean, as one of my trainers used to say.

One problem: It’s hard to keep your nose clean when you love to fight.

I felt my heart rate increase. Blood throbbed in my temple. My left hand, my free hand, opened and closed. It itched to make a fist. It itched to connect with this douche bag’s face.

“Look, Spanky,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure there’s a whole sea of girls inside just begging for you to slip them a roofie. Why don’t you just let us get out of here and then you can go back to raping and pillaging.”

“Raping and pillaging? Oh, you’re funny, Back Street. You’re not going anywhere. I took Lena to this party. If anyone’s taking her home, it’s going to be me.”

“I kind of don’t see that happening,” I said. The throbbing in my temple increased. Adrenalin was flooding my bloodstream. “You seemed to have loss that privilege the second you and your frat buddies decided to commit a federal crime.”

“The last time I checked it wasn’t a crime when a girl was asking you for it.”

“That’s why her hair is messed up and she has a ripped dress.” I didn’t know if she had ripped her dress on the fall from the upstairs’ window, or if he had done it, but Ron answered my concerns soon enough.

“What can I say? I guess the bitch likes it rough.”

“You’re a fucking pig, Ron!” Lena yelled out.

“Look, whore, you know you wanted it and you got scared once you saw how fat my cock was.”

My stomach turned. I stepped towards Ron. “Get the fuck out of here, you fat piece of shit.”

“And what if I don’t?” As he spoke, spittle flew from his mouth and hit my cheeks. I hate that.

I said, “Then this night will not end well for you.”

By this time, twenty party members had now made their way outside to see what the commotion was about. Among them were four or five of Ron’s frat buddies. His buddies were of all shapes and sizes, none of them remotely intimidating. They walked over to us, eager to get in on the fun.

Fighting was fun. Sometimes too much fun.

Anyway, now they stood next to him in some sort of display of solidarity. Ron said to them, “This guy actually thinks he’s going to kick my ass.”

Ron had no idea what he was up against, obviously. If he had any kind of street smarts he would take in how I was holding myself. How I was prepared, at a moment’s notice to strike, and strike hard. Any fighter worth his salt knew immediately what he was up against by the way his opponent held himself. Ron wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t anything.

And he’s not worth getting suspended over.

I took in a lot of air. I, of course, had sized up my opponent and knew immediately what I was up against. Ron was doughy and out-of-shape. I could knock him out in seconds. His friends, on the other hand, might cause some problems if they decided to make this a group affair. I didn’t shy away from group affairs. I shied away, in fact, from very little.

I looked at his friends. Some looked cocky. Some looked confused. Most looked drunk. One or two of them were yelling at Ron to kick my ass. My best guess was that his friends were probably not going to jump, that they were going allow this to be a fair fight, so I put all my attention on Ron.

Fair?
I thought.
You’re a trained fighter. There’s nothing fair about it.

Ron rubbed his soft-looking knuckles, sizing me up. He didn’t like what he saw. I saw the fear now in his eyes. Ron and I both knew he wasn’t tough. A guy like this got through life barely fighting because he was would usually bully people into thinking he was tougher than he was. He couldn’t bully me, and he knew it. Tonight, he was about to be exposed for the fraud he was.

As he continued to stare at me, I said, “Look, Ron, I’m not falling in love looking at you. If you’re going to do something, do it. Otherwise, I’d like to make it home in time for Jimmy Kimmel.” I knew this would piss him off.

Ron continued rubbing his knuckles. He also continued not doing anything.

I gripped the girl, Lena’s, hand tighter. “All right,” I said. “Let’s go, Lena. Ron’s apparently a nice guy and is going to let us leave.” I turned around knowing full well Ron would push me in the back, and Ronny boy didn’t disappoint.

Like I said, when I get into a fight, things always go in slow motion for me—and they did so now. The instant I felt Ron’s hand on my back, I turned and grabbed his hand. Ron wasn’t prepared for me to turn. I’ve been told my reflexes are off the charts, that my anticipatory skills are unrivaled. I credit it all to the slow-motion thing. How it works, I don’t know, but the world seems to slow down around me while I go at normal speed. So while Ron’s eyes widened in alarm as he saw me spin around, he was helpless to do much about it. I grabbed his right hand and pulled him forward using his own momentum. Ron stumbled forward and hit the side of an oversized SUV parked on the street near us. He bounced off the door and fell straight to his ass. I heard chuckling from the crowd.

It was just self-defense,
I thought.
Anyone could see that. He came at you while you weren’t looking.

Ron got up to his feet slowly, watching me. People were still laughing behind him, and I could see that it was making him madder and madder. There was a red mark on his forehead where it had bounced off the side of the SUV.

And that’s when he charged at me in a clumsy, uncoordinated motion. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to punch me or grab me. Regardless, I turned my body to the left and got into a perfect position to throw a ferocious uppercut with my right hand. And that’s exactly what I did. My punch landed directly on his chin, and Ron flew backwards onto the sidewalk, landing hard on his ass and back, his head bouncing off the concrete like a basketball. To my utter surprise, he scrambled quickly back to his feet, where he stared at me unsteadily. I think his eyes might have crossed a little. He staggered once, twice, and then fell backward.

I looked over at Lena; her eyes and mouth were wide open. I couldn’t tell if she was scared or excited. Then she pointed, and I turned quickly and saw four of Ron’s frat buddies surrounding me. I’ve been jumped before. Getting jumped isn’t a big deal if you know how to fight, and there are no weapons involved. As far as I could tell, these guys were packing nothing but their soft fists. And since the crowd was composed of a lot of women, the guys would be less inclined to fight dirty. At least, that has been my experience. Then again, these were the same scumbags who had just tried to take advantage of Lena, so all bets were off.

The crowd backed up a little and I once again marveled at my propensity to get into fights. Some guys attract money and girls. I attract fists.

The guys were all sort of looking at each other, trying to decide what to do or waiting for some sort of signal. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of them nod, and I thought:
Here they come.

And they did, all four charging me at once. Except, of course, they charged at me in
slow motion
, my brain once again slowing things down like it always did. The first two guys tried to throw punches in the direction of my head. I easily ducked and sidestepped and gave a hard left cross to the guy on the right—and broke his nose on contact. Blood spurted down his face and over his shirt and he screamed and fell away. Nearly simultaneously, I gave the second guy coming up behind me a back kick that hit nothing but manhood. He fell to ground, holding his gooseberries. The next guy jumped on my back and I threw him over my shoulder and he landed on the guy with the bloody nose. The last guy just charged me like football player. I took a step back and gave him a high kick to the chin that made him stumble back. He came at me again and I gave him a four punch combination with my last punch breaking his nose.

My adrenalin was pumping and I felt like I could do this all night. By the looks of it, these four couldn’t. They were done. Unfortunately the Gamma Phi Beta’s brother weren’t. The entire Fraternity, or at least what was left of them had surrounded me. There must had been twenty-five guys out there. I was good, but I wasn’t that good.

I was about to say something that would call attention to how unfair the numbers were when something excruciatingly painful exploded in the middle of me back. I fell to my knees and then to the ground. I turned around, and sure enough Big Red Ron was standing there holding a baseball bat, sporting a shit-eating grin. He raised the bat again.

I hate when that happens.

Ron looked like a kid ready to hit the crap out of a
piñata
. A deranged kid, and I was the piñata. Already, I figured he had done some serious damage to me. He either chipped a vertebrae or ruptured my kidney, or both.

And as he wheeled back to take another swing, and as I was about to dive under the nearby SUV, we both heard a commotion coming from down the street. He stopped in mid-swing, and I stopped in mid-dive, and promptly coughed up some blood.

And while I coughed, a van appeared around the corner, screeching on two tires. Three guys in black trench coats were hanging out of the open doors, whooping and hollering at the top of their lungs. I had just propped myself up on a knee when the van burst over the curb. It bounced and skidded to a halt, tearing up the lawn next to me.

You have got to be kidding me. What the hell did I just get myself into?

All the doors to the van seemingly opened at once and three guys poured out, all wearing trench coats and all looking as if they had just gotten back from a Marilyn Manson concert. Oddly, they looked alike: tall, pale, with long, greasy black hair.

I coughed and more blood came up. I stood slowly. I think Ronnie boy had cracked a rib. And as I stood, I felt a gentle hand under my elbow helping me. I looked, surprised. It was Lena. She smiled at me, but the smile quickly faded. Her eyes flashed warningly over to the death rock trio.

As I steadied myself, the tallest of the van freaks—easily seven feet tall—rushed over to Lena, who was still holding my arm. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She pulled me with her a little and I spun, too, nearly falling.

The tall weirdo said, and none too politely: “What the hell are you doing at this meathead party? I warned you to stay away.”

She stood her ground, looking up at the guy. “You think I wanted to come to this party, Atticai? One of these assholes drugged me at the club and brought me here.”

A woman got out of the driver’s side. She had dark reddish maroon hair and was paler than all the guys put together. She was stunning. She too, wore all black, but it looked like a jumpsuit and she had a bull whip in her hand. This was just getting better and better.

“They drugged you?” said the tall guy. Atticai, I assumed.

But before she could respond, one of the frat guys yelled out, “Hey, Freak Show! Get your fucking van off my lawn or I’m calling the police.”

“Who said that?” Atticai said, scanning the crowd, which was pretty easy for him to do, since he was the tallest guy I had even seen up close.

A real muscular guy came forward. “I did,” he said. “Now get your fucking van off my grass or I’m going stick my foot deep in your bony ass.”

Atticai turned away, ignoring him. He took both of Lena’s shoulders in his exceptionally big hands. “Did they hurt you?”

Lena looked away. There were tears in her eyes. Hell, there were tears in my eyes, too. I looked at Ron. He was standing with his back to me, holding the bat loosely, completely absorbed by the three strangers.

The tall guy said, “So which one of these young men thought it would be okay to drug a young woman and take advantage of her?”

Without hesitation, Lena pointed at Ron, who stepped back a little and gripped his bat. “Hey, man, I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Of course not,” said Atticai. “Lena, get in the van and shut the door.” He looked back at Ron. “My little ginger-haired friend is going to be taught the correct way to treat a lady.”

Lena grabbed the tall guy’s hand. “Atticai, please. Someone already took care of it. Just let it go.”

Ron, hearing this, took a step back. He also raised the bat again. Atticai continued looking at Ron. “Yes, I can see that someone did some damage to the boy.”

“Who you calling
boy
, punk?” Ron jutted the fat part of the bat in the direction of the tall figure.

Atticai’s face hardened. He looked back at Lena. “Get in the van. Now.”

Lena looked at me one more time, tried to smile, and then hurried over to the van. I want to say something, but I’ll admit, I was pretty caught up in the scene. Besides, Lena seemed to know these weirdos and didn’t seem afraid. Or, at least, she seemed less afraid.

I had been in enough brawls to know one was about to go down, and I was pretty fought out for the evening. Getting hit in the back with a bat has a way of doing that to you.
This is none of your business,
I thought again.
Leave now before this gets ugly.