Act Two Chapter Eleven - Red Barchetta

It was all over the news the next day: Mysterious stranger thwarts armed robbery at Williamsburg bank. Wasn't exactly anyone's definition of laying low, and Michael expected some form of retaliation from Solomon. None came. Michael kept his identity secret enough that it didn't matter. No one knew it was a vampire who'd thwarted the robbers, and those who could put two and two together would not know which vampire it was.

Solomon went the next night to deposit Michael's money, since he would likely be recognized if he returned there again the second time. Alone, Michael decided to venture out and see if he could find the young woman he'd rescued the night before.

He had little to go on. Just the name of the bar from her shirt: The Fox Club. Quick perusal of a phonebook and use of public transportation put him there just a few hours after dark. The night was still young enough for the place to be busy and active. As Michael approached, he could tell the place was a hang out for a certain clientele: young, bored, all with too much of daddy's money to blow and an immortality complex to go with it. All skaters, beach bunnies, bikers (of the rice rocket prep school variety), and street racers. The group was racially mixed: blacks, Asians, and whites all jumbled together. Some were clearly slumming from finer environs elsewhere, others clearly here to exploit and make money off of them.

On one level, it seemed the completely wrong place for a pudgy trailer park girl. On another, it seemed ideal. There was a youthful energy here. This was clearly the place to be and Michael smiled. Even if he never solved his personal mystery, this would be a good place to hunt.

Michael made his way across the small parking lot, pausing to check out a black '77 Firebird that someone had parked there. It was a sweet ride, mint condition despite its age, and clearly souped up for racing.

"You dig?" said a black man in his early 20s.

"Nice." said Michael. "I love the old Firebirds. Beautiful car."

"She's even more beautiful when she smokes you on the road." boasted the man.

Michael didn't take the bait. "I'll bet."

The man seemed confused. "You race?"

Michael shook his head. "I might if I had a ride, but I seem to be between cars at the moment."

"Lost a bet."

"Something like that."

"I'd be careful, Virgil. You're talking to a certified hero there." came another voice. From behind him came his mark, the girl from the bank.

Virgil seemed curious. "Oh?"

"He's the one that whacked the three robbers at First National last night." She paused. "The one that saved my life."

Michael was about to respond to that when Virgil interjected. "Man, I saw the tape on the news. I ain't never seen someone move like that. You're like Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris all rolled into one."

Michael shrugged in faux humility. "Adrenaline can make you do some pretty amazing things. Add in a pretty girl in danger and..." He let his voice trail off and he immediately noticed the girl blush.

"Think you can do it again?"

"I'm not keen on facing down three guys with AKs again, if that's what you mean."

"Two with AKs and one with a nine mil." corrected Virgil. His look turned incredulous, as if he no longer believed the girl's story.

"Three guys. Three guns. What does it matter?" Michael did not let Virgil answer. "You asked if I could do it again. What did you have in mind?"

"That frat boy punk over there. Morgan whats-his-name. Smoked me about an hour ago with that Porsche of his. Win my money back and I'll pay you $100."

"How much you lose?"

"$500."

"I'll see what I can do."

Morgan was leaning against the door of a nicely kept Porsche 944. Like the Firebird, it looked modded for street racing. He had a girl on his arm, a generic beach bunny blonde, and three other sycophantic buddies hanging on his every word. He was every bit the same sort as Todd and many others Michael had known. The rich kid, the popular kid, the one everyone wanted to be. Michael hated him almost instinctively.

"You Morgan?" Michael grunted.

"Who wants to know?"

"Just someone curious as to how you pulled it off in this piece of German shit?"

"Who the fuck are you to talk about my car like that?" Morgan rose off the door and gave his girlfriend a friendly but forceful shove to the side. This was almost too easy.

"Just someone tired of you trust fund punks butting in where you don't belong."

"So what you going to do about it?" Morgan tried to glower over Michael, even though it was clear that Michael was at least 4" taller.

Michael gave a solid kick, but not at Morgan. His foot slammed into the front quarter-panel of the Porsche and buckled the fiberglass. Morgan took a swing. Michael saw it coming, but he let Morgan have the first shot.

It landed hard, the sort of blow that would have taken the human Michael right off his feet. As it was, it hit with a dull, but impressive, thud. Michael's head snapped back, but he kept his feet.

His three friends moved in, ready and eager to teach Michael a lesson. The first took his swing next, but now Michael was not feeling charitable. He caught the fist in mid-air and gave it a hard twist. He felt the bone snap as he shoved his opponent back. He ducked as the second moved in and then landed a solid blow on his mid-section. Foe #2 doubled over in pain as Michael felt the thud of Morgan's fist on his upper back. Michael spun to his left and gave a quick shot to Morgan's sternum, stunning him and knocking him back. Now friend #3 moved in as Michael came back upright. A quick pop in the face and Morgan's third friend staggered back, blood squirting from a broken nose.

It had all happened in less than three seconds. Michael grabbed foe #2, still doubled over from Michael's earlier body blow, by the back of his collar and drove his knee upward into his face. His head snapped up, squirting blood, and he dropped over backwards onto the pavement. By now, Morgan had managed to catch his breath from Michael's sternum shot.

Seeing his three friends all down on the pavement cost Morgan his nerve. He turned to run, but there was no outrunning Michael. He grabbed Morgan and slammed him hard against the side of his own car. Morgan fell onto the pavement out cold as cheers erupted from the growing crowd of onlookers.

Michael fished through Morgan's pockets, finding a wad of fifties and the keys to the Porsche. He pocketed the money and then tossed the keys into the crowd. He then walked back over to Virgil.

"Hot damn." said Virgil. "You are the real deal. You laid all four of them low and aren't even out of breath. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Nowhere." said Michael. "Wolf blood." he quipped, making a private joke to himself.

Virgil just whistled in awe.

"One hundred for me." said Michael, pulling out the bills. "Four for you. That was the deal."

"What's your name, friend?"

"Michael Allens."

"Well, Michael, you can always hang with me. You're alright."

"So where's the action at here? Aside from beating up prep school punks?"

"Kids being kids." said Virgil. "skating, hooking up, racing, both with bikes and cars. Place doesn't card...often. Dealers are always about. Even a few pimps from time to time. You want it, odds are good you can find it here."

"Anyone in charge of all that?"

Virgil shrugged. "Nope. Owner don't want it that way. Any one gang tries to muscle in, she stops that cold."

"She?" queried Michael.

"Yeah. Not around much and I don't know how she does it. Keeps the cops away too. It's Paradise, man. Neutral territory."

"Vampire territory, more like." thought Michael to himself. "Should have known this place was a little too good to be true. So much for hunting here."

"Well, Virgil, if you don't mind I'm going to scope out the lay of the land for a bit..."

"You go ahead." said Virgil, a knowing look in his eye.

Michael headed towards the girl, who had retreated back into the bar. The mystery of her tank top was soon revealed. This wasn't just a hang out for her. She worked here.

"Aren't you a little young to be a cocktail waitress?" teased Michael as he sat down at a table she was busing.

"Boss don't check ID for the drinkers. She don't check for the employees. No one asks questions. Maybe you shouldn't either."

"Oh, I have a lot of questions. You okay after last night? What's your name? Are you seeing anybody?" The last slipped out almost automatically, but Michael let it be. "I don't do what I did for just anybody."

The girl softened. "Well, I suppose those questions are okay. My name is Leigh and I'm fine. Thank you. I owe you one. You saved my life."

Michael shook his head. "Not really. Those guys were pros. They would not have fired on you. Robbery is one thing. Murder's another. They just wanted to scare you."

"Seemed real to me." said Leigh softly. "They were pros and you took all three down in less than 5 seconds."

"Pros that know the odds of running into someone willing and able to fight back are pretty slim. The last thing they expected was someone stronger and scarier than they were."

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"Here and there. Things I've picked up from not wanting to be the 98 pound weakling anymore." Michael smiled slyly. "You left one question unanswered."

"I did?" Leigh thought for a moment. "Oh, no, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment."

"So the son you mentioned last night. His father?"

"Not part of the picture." answered Leigh sadly. Michael decided not to press.

"Alright." said Michael. "Just one more question. When do you get off work?"

"Late. After last call. 2:00am." She anticipated his next move. "Not much open at that hour."

"I believe I saw a coffee shop up the street a ways. 24 hour place. Would you like a..."

"Sure."

"I'm going to hang here for a while. Talk to Virgil and check things out some more. When you're done, I'll be back."

"Look forward to it." She said with a smile. With that, she went back to her tasks.

Michael stood up and walked outside. He let out his breath, bleeding off the tension he felt in his bones. He hadn't asked anyone on a date in a normal way like that in what seemed like ages. He had always relied on his vampiric powers to persuade and manipulate, but not so here. Doing so seemed wrong to him. Of course, it wasn't blood or sex he was after here.

"What are you doing, Michael? Wine her? Dine her? Act like this is some sort of real romance? It won't work and you know it. And why her? She's no beauty, not in the usual sense anyway. What do I want?"

He let that thought linger in his mind for a long moment. "Normal." he said aloud. "I want something normal."

----

“So where you from?” Leigh asked pointedly as she sat down with a steaming latte.

“Who says I’m not from around here?”

“You ask too many questions about the Fox Club to be from around here. Most people know its reputation, especially people our age.”

“Charleston, West Virginia initially. Then Blacksburg.”

“Tech?”

“Yeah.”

“Seeing as its midway through the term, I’m guessing you dropped out.”

Michael nodded. “Something like that. Came here with a buddy looking for work. I was opening a new bank account. Something I could put my paychecks into when…well, you know what happened.”

“I’m glad you were there.” Interjected Leigh. “If they’d taken…how would I have fed Matthew? Or gotten to work? You’re a real hero, Michael.”

“Not really.” Said Michael grimly.

“No need to be so humble with me.” She replied.

“It’s not humility.” Admitted Michael. “It’s regret. Most people like the things they are good at. I don’t.”

This intrigued Leigh, and Michael immediately regretted being so honest. He took a long sip of his own coffee, determined to force himself to be silent. Despite that, Leigh seemed more than capable of putting the pieces together on her own.

“You went too far one time, didn’t you? On someone that didn’t deserve it.”

Not the complete story, of course. But Michael saw his out, and merely nodded.

“One mistake does not erase the good you did the other night.” She said, taking his free hand in hers. “I’m very grateful. I do owe you one.” She let out her breath. “It’s been a very long night. I really should get home.” She took out a pen and scribbled onto it her address and phone number. “I hope to see you again, Michael.”

“Yeah, I’ll be around.” He said, taking the proffered napkin and stuffing it into his pocket. He watched quietly as she got up and walked out. He stared down at his drink, mulling over his feelings in silence.

“If only it was just one mistake…” he lamented to himself.

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