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I turned to face the crowd."And that," I announced with finality, "concludes the section on unarmed combat. I hope you were all taking notes. There will be a test later."I will not bother to describe the cheering and applause. I didn't deserve it, but it sure felt good. When I looked for Brock, to see what he'd thought of my little exhibition, he actually almost cracked a smile. I mean, I saw his lip twitch. It was quick, but it was there.A couple of the locals peeled Mr. Cohen off the wall and a suspiciously-convenient medic checked him over. I doubted I'd broken or ruptured anything, but he was going to have one huge collection of bruises the next day. A few whiffs of smelling salts brought him around, but he still had to be almost carried out of the room.While this was going on, the crowd fell into shop-talk mode. Groups developed as guys began to network. It was inevitable that some would want to talk to me. I was watching Cohen limp away when the guy I had earlier assumed to be. Looking at his watch, Michael turned towards the large sliding glass doors and quietly walked into the warm, spacious dining room, gutted of all furnature and littered with cans and half empty beer bottles.Most had already left. Michael lightly stepped across the hardwood floor, checking every surface for his missing phone. He moved through a doorway into the hall, and carefully opened the wooden door into the living room and crept in, leaving the door ajar behind him. He looked to the sofa at his right, and saw a young woman lying on her side, her long, dark hair drapped over the arm of the sofa closest to him. The girl sat up slightly and turned her head to face Michael, her hair partly covering her face and one of the lenses of her glasses. Their eyes briefly met, and Lauren turned away and smiled, moving again into an upright position. She leaned down and reached for a phone on the floor."I think I have what you're looking for," she said softly and sleepily, as she held Michael's.
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