Opaque

19 | Bloody Dojo

"I feel like when people judge me they're not judging me, because they don't know who I am." - Gisele Bundchen

Chapter Nineteen

The first thing I thought when I picked up my phone, which had been vibrating in my back pocket for ten continuous minutes as I tried to find the dojo where Mia happened to work, was "Is someone dying?"

Besides a life threatening emergency, I didn't see why anyone would call me ring after ring, time after time, and not take a bloody hint. Seriously, if I had been the caller, I would've given up after the first two minutes.

So naturally, I expected to hear blood curling screams, a cry for help, or a gun shot of some sort, but that was unfortunately not the case. Instead, my sensitive ears heard the usual-and slightly annoying-perky voice of my partner in fighting crime. Agent Freaking Beta.

"What could you possibly want from me that you couldn't stop calling me," I exclaimed after she had started off the conversation with the usual, "HEY, Angie," as if she wasn't aware of the inner rage I was suppressing.

I balanced Mia's folder in one hand as I pressed my phone into my ear. It was hard to hear her over the noise of the loud, obnoxious, honking cars. Like damn, I was aware of the fact that it was Saturday and naturally every family-this was probably an exaggeration, but it justified my mood-was trying to get to the beaches before they closed for the winter or were trying to go out and have a fun time as a family, but that didn't mean that they had the right to line up on the semi-narrow streets and honk as if their lives depended on it.

"I was just checking up on how you were doing," Agent Beta said, though I had to nearly shove my cell phone into my ear to hear her.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking. Anything else you want," I asked, urgency clear as day in my voice, as I glared at the people sitting in their air conditioned cars.

I didn't see why they were so upset. They were still together as a family, sitting in a car that was definitely much cooler than the temperature outside, but yet they found it necessary to punch their car horns as if they were on the verge of dying. At least they weren't out here, like me, trying to find a dojo that seemed to be nonexistent on a blisteringly hot day. Heck, even the wind was on vacation.

"No," her voice lost some of her usual spark, "I just wanted to tell you that I met up with Anastasiya and Dean."

"Did you find anything," I asked, suddenly more interested in what she was saying than in the multitude of cars decorating the streets.

"No, but I did find out that Anastasiya and Dean make a very cute couple. And get this, they even like each other," she said, and though she most likely was in a different part of the city, or even a different borough, I could feel her excitement as if she was standing right next to me.

"Gee, that is totally relevant to our task," I said dryly as I tried to read the street signs.

Even after living here for five years, I had not gone out enough to be able to navigate through the twisty, and sometimes confusing, streets of Manhattan. Narrowly escaping a rude bump-in with a lady dressed in a business outfit, I tried desperately to find the address listed on the file.

I had even called and asked Mia for directions earlier and she had clearly said, "After you leave the Le Seafood Palace," I had told her I was going to be eating there, "You walk south for about ten blocks, make a right on eighty seventh street, walk one block to Amsterdam Avenue, turn left, and the dojo will be in the middle of eighty seventh and eighty sixth street."

Her directions had sounded easy to follow, but now as I made my way through the busy sidewalks, while juggling a folder filled with files, a cell phone, and a map, it seemed like I would never make it to the dojo in time. I hated being late.

"Hello! Angie" Agent Beta's voice came through the phone I had forgotten was glued to my ear, "Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy though. I'll call you back later," I said, half focusing on the words leaving my mouth and half trying to save myself from the swarm of pedestrians walking as if their pants were on fire.

"Oh okay, but before you hang up, are we still meeting up in an hour."

"Right! I almost forgot about that," I said, suddenly finding myself right across the street from the dojo, "Yes. I'll be there."

I hung up on her after that. I felt like jumping, dancing, and screaming all at once. I had never been so relieved in my life. I just hoped that the place had air conditioning, because I had worked up quite a sweat.

Walking in, I almost wished I hadn't agreed to meet up with her here. Strong smells of body odor mixed with buckets of perfume-most likely sprayed to cover up the smell of sweat, but the plan seemingly backfired-made my chest clench. It was next to impossible to breathe and to make matters worse, there was no air conditioner.

"Hey, you there," a burly, bald, man walked up to me, seemingly from out of nowhere, "Did you book a session?"

He crossed his arms, his muscles bulging and his veins nearly popping out. He had the type of body that made me wonder why people found it attractive to over work themselves. Muscles were a good thing to have, especially for men, but there was a fine line between being well built and being a human colored Hulk.

"No," I started saying, edging away from him slightly as his glistening body began to give off an unappealing odor, but I was spared from having to explain by Mia.

Mia Thompson was a strange girl. With blonde luscious curls, which put my black wavy hair to shame, hazel eyes, and pink heart shaped lips, which would make any guy drool, she looked ready to enter the modeling world. The only aspect of her that could be a deal breaker for her as an aspiring model would be her miniature frame. She stood at four feet and eleven inches and standing next to the bulky man, who was easily six feet tall, she looked like a Barbie doll. However, instead of walking around high school with a posse of gorgeous girls, being the queen of the hallways, and shopping, she preferred to hang out in this moderate sized, hot, sweaty dojo. I didn't understand her at all.

"It's okay Axel," Mia told him, touching his toned arms with her black colored nails, "She's with me."

Axel nodded, giving me a suspicious look, and said, "She'll be better off in the kid section. She looks a little too weak to be lifting weights."

If he wasn't six feet tall and built like the Hulk, I would've seriously considered jumping him. I had just about enough with the image-based comments for one day.

Mia made a throat splicing sign with her hand-obviously, she was smart enough to know that his comment was inappropriate-but he simply ignored her and walked away.

"Ignore him. He hasn't been working out his brain muscles for a while," Mia said, an apologetic smile illuminating her face. I suddenly liked her much more.

I cracked a smile, despite the fact that my t-shirt was clinging to my skin and my forehead was dripping with sweat. I probably looked like a mess, but Mia, perhaps out of fear or niceness, didn't mention it.

"So where can we sit and talk," I asked her, finding the lobby of the dojo-which was a small room-void of chairs.

"Oh, follow me," she said and, as we both walked through a small hallway, she added, "I hope you don't mind kids because I'm actually teaching karate class right now."

I smiled, prepared myself to lie, and said, "Of course not! I love kids."

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