The Golden Boy Pt. 01

"Oh come on, I was 10."

"And you haven't changed one bit in that regard," Leyla says, rolling her eyes.

"Oh come on," I sigh. "Everyone changes."

"Yeah, but some things will always remain the same," she says.

After we finish eating, Aunt Leyla and I get ready before taking off to her dojo.

"All right, everyone. Bring it in," Leyla says. "Today, we're going to go over the basics of Muay Thai. So lineup. Damarco, you're with me."

I follow her up to the front of the class. "Now with Muay Thai, your stance is much different than traditional boxing which we covered last week. In boxing, your hips are turned so you're giving your opponent less surface area for them to target. But your knee and foot are on an inside angle, so it's much harder to check kicks. In Muay Thai, however, your hips are squared up to your opponent."

I demonstrate by getting in the Muay Thai stance. "You see how he's facing forward, with his hips straight ahead?" she points out.

"Now with Muay Thai, because our bodies are facing our opponent, we can easily check kicks and throw kicks. Your hands should be held high. Pretend you are holding a trophy. You want your hands right in front of your face."

I put up my fists in the correct position. I turn to the side so they can see. Leyla hands me a focus mitt. "A good practice is to hold a focus mitt. In the correct stance, the mitt should be right in front of your face. Remember last time when we talked about how in amateur boxing you hold your elbows down close to your body so you can protect the rib cage? Well in Muay Thai, you want your elbows out. And I'll explain why in a second."

"Now, with this stance, it is easy to throw a knee. Imagine the mitt is someone's head. You keep control of the head and pull it in. And you're bringing your knee out to hit the body." I demonstrate with the mitt, by thrusting my knee in the air as I pull the mitt in.

"Another good practice in Muay Thai is when you're throwing a kick, you'll want to run your opposite hand through your hair. Or hold the mitt up to your head. That way, you're protecting your head from a counter-attack, if you're throwing a kick in the right way, the mitt should stay against your head, if you move your hand, you'll drop the mitt."

I show them a kick with the mitt held against my head. "Now let's get into the rhythm of Muay Thai. Notice how when Damarco has his stance, he kind of has a march going. He has a rhythm of shifting his weight from one foot to the other."

"The purpose of this is to help time it so when your opponent throws a kick, you can easily check it with your shin," Leyla turns to face me and she gives me a nod to let me know she'll be throwing a kick. As I shift my weight from side to side, I bounce my knee up into the air to block the kick she throws at my rib cage.

"You see?" she asks the students. "So with his foot, he's pushing into the ground and equal and opposite force is pushing back up into him. And he transfers that force from one leg to the other. So when he pushes down with his left, he can lift up with his right and vice versa. So if he stomps with his right, he can throw a teep kick with his left. He can check a kick, throw a kick or knee as he shifts his weight from side to side."

I demonstrate one of each. "Now let's talk about defense. Notice that his hips are squared and his hands are high. You may notice that his ribs are open for an attack. You're probably wondering, won't your opponent target that area?"

"Yes, of course. And that's what we hope. We want them to throw it there. We're baiting them. With this stance, he can parry with his hands coming down across his body from either side."

As I dance in the rhythm of Muay Thai, I bring down my right hand across my body and do the same with my left to parry any strikes.

"He can also catch a kick with both hands. Another thing is that he can check with his knee by turning his foot inward on their toes or shin which can do some damage to them as well."

I throw my knee across my body to show them what it looks like. "Your opponent may try a roundhouse kick to the body." She demonstrates a roundhouse kick.

"With a roundhouse kick, you can defend it by checking it with your knee." She pauses to let me demonstrate. I bring the knee up to the elbow to check the imaginary roundhouse kick. "Notice how he brings the knee up to the elbow. Now, with a check, you'll want to walk forward as you do that, so you can counter. So when they throw the kick, you bring up your knee, check the kick, then step forward and you can throw a knee, elbow, punches or what have you."

I show them a check with my knee as I step forward and counter with an elbow. "You can also step out to the side and catch that kick with your arm which will set you up for a variety of counters, from a leg sweep to a punch or whatever."

"Now let's move up to the face. When your opponent starts attacking the face with jabs, crosses or whatever it may be, you can easily parry because you have this high guard. Let's say they throw a left jab, you can parry, step forward and knee. They throw across, you can parry and counter with a teep kick."

"Now, let's partner up and work on our Muay Thai defense," Leyla says. As the students pair up and work on checking kicks and parrying japs, Leyla and I walk around to correct their mistakes. After a while, Leyla brings them all in. "That was a great session, you all did really well. I'd like you to go home and practice this on your own. Remember, repetition is how you'll master it. Let me know if you have any questions. You are all dismissed."

"Thanks, Damarco. You're always such a big help," Leyla says as we pack up.

"Yeah, no problem," I say as we close the place up.

After we get back home, my aunts both relax in the living room. "Well, I think I am going to get some homework done before going to bed."

"All right, goodnight honey," Aunt Sako says.

"Goodnight, babe," Aunt Leyla says.

As I head to my room downstairs, as quietly as I can be, I creep out the sliding doors. I sneak out through the woods by the side of the road where there is an old abandoned shed, uncover my motorcycle with my bag and take off.

-

Chapter 2

Naomi

"School is such a drag," I sigh...

"Tell me about it," Erin says as we sit in art class. She's the only person who really understands me. That's why we've been such good friends since I've started school here. Although I know she likes that nerd Robert Shaw, I see them together all the time, I can't lie, I do have a crush on her. She's such a badass. Not afraid to be herself. She's so hardcore. She's into MMA and parkour. I wish I could be more like her. "So what is this that I heard you were sitting with Damarco Flynn at lunch?"

"Well... he was the one who came and sat by me," I say.

"Really? What did he want?" she asks.

"I guess he wanted to apologize," I say.

"For what?" she asks.

"For his friends being a douchebag. God, I hate Zack and Cooper. They are the worst," I say.

"Tell me about it. I swear, if Zack lays one more finger on Rob, I'm going to break all of his fingers," she says.

"You really like him, don't you?" I ask.

"Rob? I mean, we're close friends. I feel like I have to watch after him. He's such a nerd, but he's cute. You know?" she asks.

"I guess..."

"Do you like Damarco?" she asks.

"I don't know. I don't even know him. Besides, it's not like I'd have a chance with him. He's the golden boy. All the popular girls fawn over him as if he was god's gift to mankind," I say.

"He is hot," Erin says. "I wouldn't mind getting in bed with him."

"That's beside the point," I say.

"He seems to like you. Why else would he go out of his way like that?" she asks.

"Maybe it's all some sick joke?" I sigh.

"I don't know. As much as I hate most of the jocks here, he seems different. At least from his past actions. I mean, no one has a bad thing to say about him," Erin says. "There must be some truth to it."

"Don't you find that a little troubling, though?" I ask. "You dig deep enough, you can find dirt on anyone. But there's nothing on golden boy."

"Maybe he really is a knight in shiny armor," Erin says.

"Or another fake," I say.

"Maybe so... or maybe he's the real deal. You'll never know if you don't spend time with him," Erin says. "Who else would you rather be with?"

You. Or... The masked vigilante. The one who saved my life. "We are getting way ahead of ourselves. Besides, he could easily be gay for anyone knows."

She laughs. "Now you're just giving yourself excuses. Besides, aren't you at all curious to see if the stereotype is true?"

"Stereotype?" I ask.

"Yeah, about black guys and their cocks... I bet his dick is huge," she laughs.

I bite my lip. "Okay, maybe I'm a little curious."

"One thing is for sure, he's got a great ass. I mean, come on, you can't tell me seeing him in those football pants doesn't make you want those chocolate buns?"

"Okay. okay, it's no secret that Damarco is hot. That's not the point. I just don't think he's into me."

"You'll never know unless you talk to him."

As the last bell rings, we pack up our shit and walk out.

"Oh look, Cooper. It's a pair of trannies in their natural habitat," Zack says as he and Cooper walk by.

Erin flips them off. "Assholes."

"Just ignore them. You're giving them exactly what they want," I tell her.

"Someone needs to stand up to them," she says.

"I guess so," I say.

"Well, I gotta get going. Just give it some thought," Erin says as she walks away. My hands are starting to shake again. I quickly run into the bathroom and pull out the pill bottle once I get into the stall. Fuck me. It's the last one. I'm going to have to go to that shitty fucking club tonight to get more.

Once I get my stuff from my locker I start making the trek back to my place in the trailer park. I've tried my best to fix the place up a bit, but it's fubar at this point. It's home though. Inside, I go to my room and light up a joint before getting to work on the art commissions for this month.

For some reason, I just can't help but think about Damarco. He did seem really sincere. But he's friends with those assholes. Besides, even if he does like me, once he sees this shithole, he'll run. I would.

But he really isn't like other guys. He's kind and funny. He listens. And he's hot. Not to mention the fact that he is the star football player. Why is everything so complicated?

I finally finish up the commission I'm working on and get it submitted. Fuck, it's already pretty late. I pull out my one hitter and pack it before taking a long hit off it. Might as well get this over with. I head over to the hole in the wall and pull out my safe. After unlocking it, I grab some cash.

I hit up an uber and head out to the Underworld. The most shady club there is. Not many people know of it. It's very underground. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to know that a bunch of illegal shit goes down there. The uber reluctantly takes me to the old meatpacking warehouse and quickly takes off after he drops me off.

I fucking hate this place, but it's the only place to get what I need. As I reach the bouncer, he eyes me up. "You know the rules. No phones or cameras inside."

"You can search me, I didn't bring mine," I say. He nods and lets me in.

Inside it's pretty crowded as people hunch around stand up tables, talking amongst themselves. Here, you'll find some of the worst people. Drug dealers, addicts, prostitutes, pimps, gangbangers, and pretty much anyone who has a hand in shit they shouldn't. In the middle of the large warehouse is a caged octagon. There's also an upper level that looks down upon the club. And there, you'll find a woman looking down surrounded by the meanest thugs money can buy.

They've got music blaring as naked girls grind up on people. The air is filled with smoke that stinks of weed and the cups are most likely filled with something besides alcohol. This is definitely not the place for anyone just looking for a drink. Especially someone young and vulnerable.

I head up to the bartender. "Aww, shit... Look who it is," a tatted up, greasy man with a few teeth missing says. "I knew you'd be back for more. Here, let me give you something to drink. It's on the house."

"I don't drink," I say as I put the cash on the table. "Just get me what I had last time, Zig."

"All right. Fair enough. Business as always," he says, taking the money. After he counts it, he walks over to the side and pulls out a pill bottle and tosses it to me. I open it up and inspect the goods. Satisfied, I pop a pill and put the rest in my pocket.

"All right, ladies and thugs. Let's get this show on the road," says the woman here with the most sway. Her name is Mistress Faye. "Let's start the fights. For our first challenger has already started to make a name for himself. He may be young, but he isn't someone to underestimate. Put your hands together for the dream killer, your very own, Talon."

No fucking way... Damarco? I watch as he enters the octagon. Holy fucking shit.

"His opponent?" Mistress Faye says. "Not someone you want to cross in a dark alley. He's put out the lights in many people's eyes. Crushed a lot of heats and I mean that literally. He's your worst nightmare with many felonies. He got his name because of the many people he's buried. Meet Tombstone!"

The biggest man I have ever seen walks into the octagon. He's bald and on his arm are lined with cuts into his skin. As if he were keeping track of all the people he's won against. Jesus. Is Damarco crazy? "All right, ladies and thugs. Last call to make your bets."

"Damn, I know who to put my money on, this fight is going to end in a murder case. Tombstone is going to bury that wimp," Zig says.

I hope to god not. Come on Damarco. What the hell is he doing here?

"Ready, fight!" Mistress Faye says. Damarco raises his fists above his face and starts shifting his weight from foot to foot. The other guy just starts walking up to him as if they're just going to have a casual conversation. The look on his face tells otherwise. He like a man about to commit murder.

The size difference between the two of them is like looking at a puppy trying to stand up against an elephant. As the giant gets close, Damarco surprises everybody by throwing a hard punch in the guy's stomach.

Everyone laughs as Damarco coils back in pain, shaking his hand as if he touched a stove. That's not a good sign. Tombstone throws a punch back and catches Damarco off guard, knocking him square on his back. He quickly rolls back onto his feet and charges at Tombstone and batters into the mountain's stomach and wraps his arms around the backs of his legs, but he can't seem to pick him up. Tombstone bends down and picks Damarco up and pile drives him into the mat. The crowd cringes at the sound of his head smacking against the ground.

"It's like watching a kid try to fight an adult. Funny at first, but it's going to be hard to watch after Tombstone stops playing around. He gets a kick out of watching the hope drain out of his opponent's eyes," Zig says.

He may be an expert on Tombstone, but he knows nothing about Damarco. And then again, neither do I. Before today, I don't think we have even talked to each other. I guess he started here just a little before I arrived.

Damarco manages to escape Tombstone's grasp and scrambles to his feet just in time to get run over by Tombstones boot as the crowd cheers. Damarco rolls out of the way just in time before getting stomped on. My heart is racing as I watch helplessly as one of the only people who has ever been nice to me continues to get pummeled. He climbs back to his feet just in time to block a punch thrown by Tombstone. With his hands held high, he perries a flurry of punches by the giant. He even gets a few in return. But none of Damarco's strikes hurt the giant.

"Man, his punches aren't even phasing the big guy," Zig laughs. Then a big crack echoes through the warehouse as Damarco nearly gets knocked off his feet by a backhand from Tombstone. Then Tombstone charges at the disoriented Damarco and catches him with a hard uppercut to the jaw, lifting him off the ground. Damarco crashes to the mat. The crowd roars and whistles as the giant thrusts his fist into the air. I find myself standing up next to the cage, wishing I could rush to Damarco.

Why is he doing this? Just give up, Damarco. No amount of money is worth this kind of beating. Walk away while you still can.

The room goes silent. To the shock of everyone, Damarco climbs back to his feet. Please, don't do this. I can't watch this anymore. He can barely stand. His eyes meet mine and I can see the shock in his face. All of a sudden, Tombstone's boot slams into Damarco's head and he falls to the ground as if the life was taken out of him.

I shriek as a tear falls from the corner of my eye. "No!"

The crow erupts like a pack of wild dogs all howling with complete satisfaction. And yet I feel as if I'm the one being punched watching Damarco lay there like a dead man.

"As expected," Mistress Faye says, but before she can finish, Damarco slams his fist against the mat as he climbs back to his feet, silencing the room. What is he doing? He can't be serious.

"Man, this kid is crazy," Zig says.

Tombstone's smile fades as anger takes over him. He charges at Damarco with a storm of punches. He manages to block and parry them. Tombstone throws a hard roundhouse kick at Damarco, but he manages to duck just in time. He then kicks the back of Tombstone's knee and brings the big man down. Damarco doesn't waste any time as he gets his arm around Tombstone's neck locking it in with his other arm wrapped around the back of Tombstone's head.

"Holy shit, he's got the big man in a rear-naked chokehold. How the fuck did he manage to do that?" the guy next to me asks. As the giant climbs to his feet, Damarco wraps his legs around him. Tombstone tries to throw punches at Damarco, but he can't seem to hit him. He then slams them both into the mat, but Damarco continues to strangle him. Tombstone tries to roll onto his hands and knees.

Tombstone struggles to climb back to his feet... he stumbles forward and collapses back onto the mat. Damarco reluctantly lets go of the big man and struggles to get back to his feet. The room is as silent as a graveyard. No one can believe what they just saw.

"Well, there you have it. Talon wins," Mistress Faye says tight-lipped. He stumbles out of the cage and collects his money. He puts on a pair of black sweats and a black long-sleeved shirt. Before I know it, he's making his way over to me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks.

"I could ask you the same thing," I retort.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to make money. But this is no place for you," he says.

"And why is that?" I ask.

He just sighs. "Look, this place is bad news. Let's go somewhere else. Okay?"

I let out a sigh. "Fine. But first, you should get checked. You just took a beating, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. Let's just get out of here," he says. After he grabs his stuff, I follow him outside. We end up by a motorcycle.

"You have a motorcycle?"

"Yeah... Paid for with the cash I make fighting."

"Everyone paints you out to be some boy scout and yet, here you are fighting in underground cage fights. Who are you?"

"Like I said, nothing is as it seems," he says as he hands me a helmet as he climbs onto his bike. "Where do you live? I'll give you a ride."

"The trailer park by Lake Silver," I say.

"Wait... The trailer park?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"What's wrong with the trailer park?" I ask.

"Nothing. Here, hop on, I'll give you a ride."