“I will, I promise.”
I was surprised at how much it hurt to watch her walk out the door. I wanted to chase after her and never let her go.
The dance ended and I found Wolf and Cassidy. I was surprised when they told me they were going with Jim and Faith to a party. I was a little relieved as I walked to my car. I was disappointed when Piper was making out with Justin in the parking lot. I’d sent my warning. I went and got in my Jeep, and went home to get some rest. I would need it for tomorrow.
Saturday October 25
I HAD A FULL DAY. IN the morning, I was supposed to go to a local dojo and meet my new sword-fighting teacher. I then was to meet my fight instructor. After lunch, we were going to a firing range, and the fight instructor was going to teach me how to handle a handgun. Then this evening, I was going to Eve’s farm to finish the music video.
I found Mom and Dad drinking coffee and eating cinnamon rolls. I had Googled cinnamon out of curiosity—okay, it was boredom—it actually is an aphrodisiac for guys. I know I love the smell. I was just enjoying breakfast when Mom brought me out of my enjoyment.
“David, I’m worried about Peggy.”
That got my attention.
“Why, what’s up?” I asked.
“She came home drunk Thursday night. It was the second time this week. That was why she was grounded. I had a long talk with her parents, and her dad thought you were with her Thursday night. That’s why he was acting like a jerk.”
“Do they know where she’s been going to get drunk?” I asked.
“The neighbor lady has been buying her booze. I would suspect that she might have more sources. I want you to keep an eye on her when you two go out.”
I noticed my cinnamon roll wasn’t as appetizing. I did finish the one I was eating, but I put the other two back onto the platter. Dad snagged one and grinned at me.
I ARRIVED AT THE DOJO and went looking for my teachers. At the sign-in desk, I told them who I was. One of the staff took me to get a kendo outfit. Kendo means ‘The Way of the Sword.’ He told me the protective armor was called ‘bōgu,’ and the bamboo sword was called a ‘shinai.’ He helped me get dressed and then took me out to meet my sword instructor.
I was surprised when it was a young woman in her mid-20s. She was tall and thin, and she moved with an elegance I would associate with a dancer. I would guess her ancestry was Eurasian. She had long, shiny black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. What was out of place was she had round eyes that were a dark blue. I looked more closely and found her to be quite attractive.
She came forward when she saw me and smiled. I wanted to see that smile more, it just lit up her face.
“David, I’m Tish Greco. I’ll be teaching you sword fighting,” she said, shaking my hand with a firm grip.
“I’ve never done this before,” I confessed.
“Good, because what I’ll be teaching you isn’t really sword fighting. If you tried half of what we’ll be doing, you’d hurt someone, or worse, hurt yourself. We’re going to learn how to do stage sword fighting. It’s all choreographed, and it’s all about how it looks. They’ve sent me the three sword-fighting scenes. Our goal is to get you to the point where you can do the choreography so we don’t have to use a stunt double.”
I was a little disappointed when she took my sword away from me and we started learning the first fight scene. I found that both my modeling and dance classes came in handy. I imagined the sword fight as an intricate dance. The modeling made me very aware of my body and how it looked. Tish had duct-taped X’s on the wall to indicate where cameras were going to be. She would stop me in mid-step to make sure my face was pointed in the right direction so it could be filmed.
Towards the end, she started to swing her sword near me so I got used to it flying by my head. At first, I jerked back.
“No, no, no. Trust your partner,” she ordered me. “This isn’t real. I won’t hit you.”
She swung past my ear and I jerked again. She smacked my butt.
“You said you wouldn’t hit me,” I complained.
“Did it hurt?” she asked.
I thought about it.
“Not really,” I admitted.
She swung at my head again. I gritted my teeth and didn’t react. She smiled at me. I heard clapping and turned to see a monster of a man watching us.
“David, I’d like to introduce you to Dylan Howard. He’ll be your fighting instructor,” Tish said.
I was sent to get into shorts and a t-shirt. I was a little nervous when the staff and Tish were seated along the wall when I came back out. Dylan motioned me out onto the mat.
“David, I need to assess how good you are at defending yourself. Don’t worry about hurting me,” he challenged.
I looked over at Tish, and she had a pained expression on her face. Oh, shit. Dylan was a few inches shorter than I was but outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. I was not expecting him to charge me, nor to be so quick. I had no time to think, so I just reacted. Dylan went ass-over-tea-kettle and was lying on his back in the blink of an eye. Did I do that? I could hear everyone chuckling as Dylan got up. He gave me a look that made me want to run for the door. Dylan seemed to gather himself.
“I deserved that,” he said, and then started laughing.
I quickly found out that Cassidy had left out A LOT about fighting. For the next two hours, Dylan threw me around like a rag doll. Something Cassidy did teach me was how to fall. Dylan was happy about that because we could do much more. I was even learning to toss him. If done right, his extra weight was actually beneficial for me. Done wrong, and he was like throwing a sack of cement.
There were two forms being taught. The first were the tosses. They looked great on video. I had to learn to be thrown and to throw people. The second was actually to fight. Like the sword fighting, this was going to be choreographed, but, he needed to teach me the basics. We were doing a Hollywood version of Krav Maga. Just like the throws, I had to learn to take a punch, and how to deliver one without killing someone.
By the time he was done with me, I felt like I’d been sacked all night long. He sent me to take a hot shower. Tish and Dylan then took me to lunch. We went to the diner by the hospital so I could get some fried chicken. I still loved Monical’s, but this was a close second.
“Why were we being watched?” I asked.
“Dylan is known for his unconventional training style. I watch him so I can learn to be better,” Tish told me.
“So is this the same as your sword fighting. Does this stuff really work in the real world?” I asked.
“Oh, yes! If you go full speed with what he’s teaching you, you’ll hurt someone. What he’s teaching you is very real.”
“I know it felt real.”
AFTER LUNCH, I WAS taken to a firing range. Dylan spent an hour on gun safety. Basically, it was never point a gun at anyone, unless you intend to kill them. That included loaded, with the safety on, with blanks, or unloaded. Never, EVER, point it at someone. He explained how, with just blanks in the gun, you could kill a person!
I was a little surprised that Tish was learning along with me.
“How come you’re doing this, too?” I asked.
“I work for Dylan, and part of my responsibilities is to train actors. A big part of that is gunplay.”
“David, in the movie you’ll be using modified Colt 1911 .45 caliber pistols. You’ll need to learn to shoot with both hands,” Dylan instructed me. “Are you right- or left-handed?”
“Right.”
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the gun range. Dylan explained that he first intended to teach me how to shoot correctly. He would then hope not to mess me up by showing me how to do it for the movie.
WHEN I WAS DONE, TISH and Dylan told me to be back on Sunday, and we’d do it all over again. I went home, and Mom and Dad had left me a note saying they were going to dinner and a movie. I found some leftovers to eat and then went to Eve’s farm.