Xiamara - Book one of the Angola High Series [ON HOLD]

Chapter 6: Dirk Daniels

I'm in my room, standing before the mirror, I'm twirling like an idiot to study the carefully chosen outfit. Black, ripped skinny jeans, my favorite black-and-white skull tank, and combat boots with the shiny steel toes. I slide onto my wrists every leather and chain bracelet I own, then add chain danglies to my ears and a twisted chain choker with a skull and cross-bone pendant around my neck. Today my hair is black (as usual) but the tips are blood red (fitting for a date with a Vampire), I leave it down with my bangs swept over my eyes (to add a little mystery). I make sure my eyes are dramatic with black eye-liner and purple eye-shadow, and decide my lips should be blood red (to match the hair). I'm ready.

I hear a car horn and jump out of my room. Mom is huffing at me but, whatever. I'm out the door in two seconds flat. And there he is, standing not next to the 2015 McLaren 650S (like I'd a thought) but an antique crotch-rocket 2016 Suzuki GSX-S1000 as electric blue as his car. But what's even hotter is the Vampire leaning against it, arms folded, eyes burning into my soul.

He's got on washed-out black skinny jeans with a black-and-silver studded belt, an updated version of the classic black-and-white converse sneaker, and then my eyes roam upward. My God! Could that shirt be any tighter? A slick-black tee that seems to be painted onto every muscle, divot and crevice, glides over his skin like water. I want to touch that shirt just to make sure it's real. Over his broad chest loosely hangs a black-and-white striped tie with chains and studs weaving and twisting in its fabric. And the best surprise is the piercings. Two black loops hang over his lips (which I'm tempted to chew on)and a silver stud above his right eyebrow.

I smile as I walk up to him, but play it cool so I say, "Hey."

The smile he gives me is hungry and wild. The tips of his fangs dip just below his upper lip and I shiver. "Come on," he takes my hand and guides me to the bike. We get on and I notice my neighbors peeking their nosy little heads from behind their curtains. I see their shocked faces and imagine their gasps as they watch the little girl they knew hanging tightly to a sexy Vampire. 

Keep watching, I think to myself, the show's only gonna get better. I smile as we speed off.

I don't know where he's taking me so when we pull up to the stadium and I see the large banner that reads:  Natural Rejection Tour of 2053, I nearly jump off the bike in excitement. Dirk is chuckling. I feel the vibrations of it on my chest, which is pressed against his muscular back. He surprises me when he veers the bike away from general parking and sneaks around back.

"Where are we going?" I ask, worried that we're not going to the concert after all.

"You'll see," he calls over his shoulder. And in moments we are heading to an unmarked door at the back of the stadium. I get a bit worried, like what is he planning to do with me in some dark back hallway? I shiver, undecided as to how I feel about that.

He knocks on the door and a very large man opens it up. He is dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and wearing a t-shirt labeled: Security. "Hey Rocko," Dirk says.

"Oh, hey Dirk! Glad you could make it," the monstrous man responds with a surprisingly tenor voice. I don't know what shocks me more, the fact that we are ushered in backstage, or that the giant man sounds like he hasn't hit puberty yet. I fight back my chuckle.

Then Dirk grabs my hand and I forget what was so funny. His hand is cold but slick with sweat. Is he as nervous as I am? I follow him and the monster-dude down several halls, we make a U-turn somewhere and before I can ask where we are we enter a room and I can't speak. Lounging before me is Natural Rejection. Josiah Rasmussen, Joey Parks, Dominic Flores, and Bobby Watson. I think I might die. They are by far the best fan-band for the classic All American Rejects (the band from the year 2000-something). They are so good they even have their own cult following. They turn to us and smile, "Hey Dirk," they practically say in unison.