The Bad Jokes #1: The Redhead

Chapter 5: At Least Stop Bleeding

I walked into the dojo, needing to tear someone apart. There was only one man in town who was capable of taking what I could dish out, and that man was sweeping the floors when I walked in.

I'd known Wyatt Briggs for just about five years, and I still didn't know much about him other than his name and his incredible skill in numerous martial arts. We sparred often and spoke rarely, just the way I liked it. He probably would be surprised to know I considered him my friend.

Tonight, he looked closely at me, as if trying to figure out what was different. And as we sparred, we both figured it out: for the first time ever, I wasn't completely focused. In almost five years of sparring with Wyatt, my concentration was off. After I failed to completely block a kick to my jaw, Wyatt called a halt while I mopped up the blood with my hand towel.

"Anything broken?" Wyatt asked.

I wiped my hand across my split lip. "No. Let's get back to it."

Wyatt shook his head. "You're off tonight. You're lucky it wasn't worse."

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"Man, at least stop bleeding. I already have to disinfect the mats again."

I gave him a slight grin.

"So, what's the story? You've never been distracted before."

"Nothing. No story."

Wyatt actually rolled his eyes at me. "Dude, we've known each other five years. You can't tell me what's eating you?"

I hesitated, then decided to give him enough to shut him up. "It's this redhead. She moved in a week ago."

I knew Wyatt was trying to figure out if that was good news or bad news. I didn't give him a chance and I touched my lip.

"I think your mats are safe now. Let's keep going, unless you'd rather sit around and talk about girls like a little bitch."

I almost didn't block the kick that came flying at my face.