on before I step into something, you know? So….” He paused, trying to find words.
“Where are you now?” Adrian asked.
“MIT campus. I just finished aikido class, and I want to stay out of Asbjorn’s hair for a while.”
“Good idea,” Adrian said with a laugh. “He can’t stand being hovered over. Want to meet for a cup of coffee? I can be over there in fifteen minutes. There’s that place on campus….”
H ALF AN hour later, Sean was sitting across the table from Adrian, who was drinking a double espresso with water on the side. Sean stuck with green tea.
“The fights are by invitation only,” Adrian continued the history of the Warehouse fight club. “Several dojos and some independents get together every so often. The warehouse belongs to Joe’s Trucking Company. They let us use it for free. It started out with a group of old friends in professional jobs who had to burn some extra calories and a lot of stress away. They’d invite their sensei and senior students from their dojos, and it just grew. I invited some of the street kids so they have an outlet for their competitive energy. It’s like a club, but informal. We all pitch in as best we can.”
That much made sense. Sean had found the atmosphere to be congenial, almost family-like, especially in the beginning.
“So how did Asbjorn get involved?” He asked, digging for information. Adrian measured him with an appraising look before he examined his half-finished coffee.
“Tiger and Nell were brought in by their former teacher, Clark-sensei, who was killed in the running of the bulls in Pamplona.”
“No shit?” Sean blurted.
“Yeah. That’s a few years ago. He was a bit wild underneath it all. So Asbjorn and Nell brought you in just the same way Clark brought them in, see?” Sean felt Adrian’s inquisitive gaze on him again. “This is all a lot of ancient history—are you sure I’m not boring you?” he asked mildly.
“No! No. This is all very interesting.” And it was. The group was unregulated and wild, and it offered both support and a strange sort of freedom. The feeling was new and fresh. Sean decided he liked it. “So, about Asbjorn.”
“Ah! I almost forgot… you were so curious about Asbjorn.” There was a twinkle in Adrian’s eye, and Sean felt heat rise up his throat.
“Just because he brought me in,” Sean explained all too quickly. “That’s all.”
Adrian nodded, sipped more espresso, and chased with a gulp of water. “Of course. That’s all. Nell and Tiger brought in Asbjorn way back when—Asbjorn was a natural fighter even as a teen. He really looked up to Tiger after his father died. Hell, he even cut off his precious long hair, getting a buzz cut.”
Now that part was rather odd, and Sean had every intention of verifying this unlikely tidbit with Asbjorn at a later date. “Really? Was Tiger against long hair?”
“Not at all,” Adrian smiled, drawing the story out. “But young Asbjorn was a hellion, suspended from school all the time after his father died. So Tiger made him a bet. If Asbjorn could go without a fight for a whole week, Tiger would have to style his hair according to Asbjorn’s choice. But if Asbjorn fought, Tiger got to pick the hairstyle for Asbjorn’s hair.”
“He lost?”
“Within three days.”
And that’s how he was to this very day, all because a man Asbjorn idolized made him get a buzz cut for a bet all those years ago. Sean could just imagine the wild taunting Asbjorn must have endured in school. But he kept his hair short—it was good for the Navy, and he was still holding onto it. Furthermore, Asbjorn had been devastated to learn of Tiger’s death, but nobody told him Tiger’s motorcycle accident was inadvertently facilitated by Don.
“So he and Don don’t get along?” Sean tried another tack.
“They do,” Adrian said with a sigh. “But there is a history, too. Don and Tiger hit it off immediately. They were like yin and yang—Don is
“Where are you now?” Adrian asked.
“MIT campus. I just finished aikido class, and I want to stay out of Asbjorn’s hair for a while.”
“Good idea,” Adrian said with a laugh. “He can’t stand being hovered over. Want to meet for a cup of coffee? I can be over there in fifteen minutes. There’s that place on campus….”
H ALF AN hour later, Sean was sitting across the table from Adrian, who was drinking a double espresso with water on the side. Sean stuck with green tea.
“The fights are by invitation only,” Adrian continued the history of the Warehouse fight club. “Several dojos and some independents get together every so often. The warehouse belongs to Joe’s Trucking Company. They let us use it for free. It started out with a group of old friends in professional jobs who had to burn some extra calories and a lot of stress away. They’d invite their sensei and senior students from their dojos, and it just grew. I invited some of the street kids so they have an outlet for their competitive energy. It’s like a club, but informal. We all pitch in as best we can.”
That much made sense. Sean had found the atmosphere to be congenial, almost family-like, especially in the beginning.
“So how did Asbjorn get involved?” He asked, digging for information. Adrian measured him with an appraising look before he examined his half-finished coffee.
“Tiger and Nell were brought in by their former teacher, Clark-sensei, who was killed in the running of the bulls in Pamplona.”
“No shit?” Sean blurted.
“Yeah. That’s a few years ago. He was a bit wild underneath it all. So Asbjorn and Nell brought you in just the same way Clark brought them in, see?” Sean felt Adrian’s inquisitive gaze on him again. “This is all a lot of ancient history—are you sure I’m not boring you?” he asked mildly.
“No! No. This is all very interesting.” And it was. The group was unregulated and wild, and it offered both support and a strange sort of freedom. The feeling was new and fresh. Sean decided he liked it. “So, about Asbjorn.”
“Ah! I almost forgot… you were so curious about Asbjorn.” There was a twinkle in Adrian’s eye, and Sean felt heat rise up his throat.
“Just because he brought me in,” Sean explained all too quickly. “That’s all.”
Adrian nodded, sipped more espresso, and chased with a gulp of water. “Of course. That’s all. Nell and Tiger brought in Asbjorn way back when—Asbjorn was a natural fighter even as a teen. He really looked up to Tiger after his father died. Hell, he even cut off his precious long hair, getting a buzz cut.”
Now that part was rather odd, and Sean had every intention of verifying this unlikely tidbit with Asbjorn at a later date. “Really? Was Tiger against long hair?”
“Not at all,” Adrian smiled, drawing the story out. “But young Asbjorn was a hellion, suspended from school all the time after his father died. So Tiger made him a bet. If Asbjorn could go without a fight for a whole week, Tiger would have to style his hair according to Asbjorn’s choice. But if Asbjorn fought, Tiger got to pick the hairstyle for Asbjorn’s hair.”
“He lost?”
“Within three days.”
And that’s how he was to this very day, all because a man Asbjorn idolized made him get a buzz cut for a bet all those years ago. Sean could just imagine the wild taunting Asbjorn must have endured in school. But he kept his hair short—it was good for the Navy, and he was still holding onto it. Furthermore, Asbjorn had been devastated to learn of Tiger’s death, but nobody told him Tiger’s motorcycle accident was inadvertently facilitated by Don.
“So he and Don don’t get along?” Sean tried another tack.
“They do,” Adrian said with a sigh. “But there is a history, too. Don and Tiger hit it off immediately. They were like yin and yang—Don is
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