Don't... (13 page)

We had a comp in a month’s time, nothing special, just a local knock-out session between a few dojos, and I’d arranged extra lessons on Fridays for those who wanted to take part. If I didn’t show willing, they wouldn’t. Actually that was just arrogance on my part. The initiates were good and more than up for a fight. I’d put it down to my charm and good looks, but, to be honest, even I couldn’t resist my sensei-in-training’s charms. Max was a major “lad-magnet,” and boy did she know it.

A knock on my car window forced me to crack an eye open, and the caretaker smiled in before jangling the keys.

“Can you drop these through the letterbox, Jack? I’m off to my accountant’s course tonight and I won’t be around to lock up when you finish.”

The window muffled his voice, so I set it down and took the keys off him, noticing it was just touching seven. “How’s it going, Len?” Although I hoped he wasn’t going to go into too much detail.

The older man sighed and rested an arm between us on the Merc. “I doubt I’ll be headhunted by the Government just yet,” he said, and I had to smile. Give me a car over an accounts charter any day.

“I did say you’d have been better going with tutoring hand gliding.” Len was the only fifty-five-year-old I knew that did a side order of extreme sports. He’d even given my dojo a try for a month or two, but being penned in by four walls hadn’t been for him. Which is why I couldn’t understand the big deal with accounting.

“All well and good testing the old body, Jack, the scary thing for me is the mind. I can get my body to do most things, I just get mental blocks when it comes to this.” He tapped the side of his head. Maybe I could understand that. Len changed tactics and patted the top of my Merc. “Night-night. Give those little shits hell.”

“Kids?” I shouted, a little too hopeful he’d get over another of his phobias.

“I prefer mine,” I heard called back, and I got a wave off Len as he headed out of the parking lot. He lived just over the road, the whole point to him being caretaker, and I watched him cross the road and head on home.

The lot was empty at the moment, and I had roughly fifteen minutes before Max and the others started to arrive. After locking the Merc, I pushed through to a small hall that led onto reception. My duffle bag went on the main desk, and I pulled out a signing-in book for initiates to fill in when they came. I had a set routine, checking the fire exits in the main hall, making sure curtains were pulled back from them and the bar made visible just in case. Hand wipes came out first, though, and I made sure I kept it down to one wipe per hand. Glancing around, I was glad to see I didn’t need lights; the night was still light enough to carry us through for another two hours yet. There was a smaller break room back by the reception and we made use of it roughly halfway through. The importance of bottled water was always stressed, especially with the older guys and gals who were put through their paces, but I also supplied soft drinks for the younger ones.

The main hall itself was immense, fitting enough to comfortably hold up to two-hundred people. My students were lost in here by comparison, but they needed the space. A bar was at the far end, all meshed up and closed for the night, chairs rested on tables, and a relative calm had settled with what little dust the cleaners had missed.

I’d already changed, and with drinks taken from the back of my Merc and set up in the break room, I set about easing my body into a few warm-up stretches, twists, flips, and kicks.

Max blustered in a few minutes later, the first handful of teenage students in tow. She did this parent-share thing with some other parents where Max would “do the karate nights” whilst other parents did the various other things they got up to.

Another ten minutes later, there was a full head count arranged by Max into age-appropriate rows, doing warm-ups and intros into
kihon
. Most aches and pains worked away, I then had them running through a first Kata before separating them into sparring groups according to grading and sweat level. Fuck, not sweat level: grading, they were just separated according to grading. I resisted looking at my hand wipes. Max worked anticlockwise to me, checking each group, watching style. She had been working with me for five years now. At only twenty-eight, second Dan, just two Dan short of me but with just about as much attitude, her ability hid pretty well beneath her petite frame. No doubt she’d be an attacker’s ideal “victim”: all slender framed, long legs, blue eyes, black hair that fell wildly over her shoulders even in lessons. But after ending up on my back a few times with her standing above me, an attacker’s fantasy is about as close as anyone would get with her. She was more than capable of running her own club, but she had this
go get ’em
streak that most moms seemed to have. No time to sit back and kick back. Well, she could handle the kick back, but the tidying up afterwards without losing it? I hid a smile. And Gray thought I was bad.

As we made our rounds, Max had that quiet thing going on with her eyes that told me she’d spotted a concern; I gave a nod, although I’d already taken note how Liam, a twenty-something loads-of-potential brown belt, was struggling getting his timing right against one of my black belts, Ben. Twice now Liam had made contact, winding Ben with a kick to his midriff, then one a little too close to home between the legs. Ben handled it well, taking a step back, giving a polite reminder of the
dojo kun
, five simple philosophical rules that included
respect others
. Ben would bow, breaking the heat, then go back with a calm mind that eventually settled into Liam. But with Liam going for his black belt in a month, it was something to note.

“Liam.”

Both men broke apart for a minute and looked over.

“See me when we finish, please.”

After break, we concentrated more on
kunite,
sparring in knock-out sequences, which, ranked fairly according to belts, meant that most of the kyu and Dans had time to cheer from the sidelines as two sets of duels took place at one time.

Max declared the winners forty minutes later, and I took them all through a cool-down period, just gentle exercises as parents and partners started to filter in.

“Same time Tuesday,” said Max as the hall floor started to clear. She got a few calls back. “You okay to lock up?” she asked me, and Max peeled off her jacket before folding it across her duffle bag. I went to answer, but she was already calling out for her son to pack it in play fighting. She’d rolled her eyes at me, her point of
as if they haven’t had enough
.

“Sure,” I said, giving her a wink. “You get off. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Thanks, Jack. See you Tuesday, yeah?”

And that was it, she was gone, kids in tow. Voices drifted out the door, and I finally relented and cleaned my hands, just the two wipes, then a third on my face before I took a long drink of water. I felt a little better, more in control, but then a good practice session always did that to me.

“Sensei?”

Bottle still in hand, still drinking, I glanced and saw Liam, bag slung over shoulder, behind me.

“Hmmm,” was all I could manage until I’d swallowed. Wiping at my nose, I turned and rested back onto the table. “Concentration’s a bit shot, huh?”

Shifting his bag slightly, Liam shrugged. “Just a bit.”

“Everything okay? You getting as much practice in as possible for your grading?”

There was a heavy sigh. “Sure. It’s—”

“What?” I offered him my water and his bag went to his feet as he took it and had a drink.

“Had a fight the other day.” A sigh, he came and rested next to me. “Girlfriend’s been cheating on me.”

“Ah,” I said, looking down at my feet.

“Yeah,” said Liam, offering the water back. I shook my head, glancing at the uncapped rim. “We’ve been together for four years,” said Liam, “and I thought, well,” He shrugged. “You know.”

“That you were serious?” He looked too young to be serious over anything.

He nodded, then gave a cold snort. “Well, we were until my best mate got to her.”

Sam came to mind and I said, “Your missus, she’s not called Chelsea by any chance, is she?”

Liam’s eyes were a little wide. “How’d you know?”

Shit. I straightened uncomfortably. “I think you mentioned her a few times.”

Liam nodded, confirming that maybe he had, and he settled back down, bottle now on the table. “Kind of beat the crap out of my mate, though.”

I sighed, part of me wanting Sam here to see the shit he caused. “Is he the kind of friend you regret hitting?”

Liam palmed his eyes. “I think I miss him more than I do my missus. We... see we had this thing before she came along.”

Now I had to look at him.

“You,” said Liam, and he looked real awkward, “you are okay with a bi in your club, right? It’s—”

I smiled, trying to put him at ease. I don’t think he entirely expected that to slip out. “Pretty hard to worry about sexual orientation when some people I’ve fought with are kenjutsu schooled and coming at you with a Katana, even if it is a replica forged in plastic.”

Liam chuckled. “Good point.” He sobered after a minute and fell quiet. “You think I should give him a call?”

I got up and stretched. “I’m a lousy one to go to for advice on relationships. But,” I hit his shoulder, “I have the perfect thing to calm your mind enough to make that decision for yourself.”

“Yeah?” Liam was up on his feet now too. “What’s that?”

“Run-through of your black-belt Kata.” I grinned and Liam groaned.

“I’m shit... well, struggling with that.”

I stopped and looked back at him. “Seriously? Because you know... a month, it’s all you’ve got before I put you through for grading. And if you fail and let me down, I personally take you through the walk of shame.”

“What’s that?” Liam was grinning.

I wasn’t. “All my seven-year-old kyu lined up and kicking the crap out of your kneecaps as you walk through them.”

“Any swearing allowed?”

“From seven-year-olds? Possibly.” I winced. “Because you, of course, are fully aware of the dojo kun and respecting your fellow students, whereas they are still initiates.”

“Kind of figured that would be the case.” Liam padded over somewhat dejectedly. “This is too complex.”

“The fact you’re noticing is a good sign. I’d be more worried if you told me it was easy, especially moving up to first degree.” I took up stance. “Yes you have to be technically correct, but focus shifts more to mastery of body through power, focus and variation in pace.” Liam took stance just left to me and we started to run through a sequence of twists, kicks, punches, and turns, but I could see he was struggling only a few minutes into it.

“Okay,” I said, stopping. “Katas are a formalized performance of a life or death fight against imaginary opponents.”

“I know that,” said Liam, shaking out his arms and legs.

“So who’s your opponent?” Liam blinked at me, and I nodded. “The first kid to bully you? The father you need to prove something to? The friend who slept with your missus?”

Liam didn’t like that. “I told you. I’ve already hit him.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “And perhaps if you’d stepped away, put a face to your imaginary opponent, you would have dispelled all that energy without fucking up your head in the process and hitting him.”

“I’m not pissed at him anymore, though, sensei—”

“Jack’s fine. We’re out of class now. So show me that you’re still not pissed, focus on his face, give him the ability to defend himself, and fight.”

I stepped off the floor and rested against a table. In the minutes that passed, Liam kicked ass with his Kata with next-to-no technical mistakes. His stances and weight distribution were perfect, kicks, turns, and punches all timed to perfection. The concentration going on in his eyes was intense, focus purely on an obviously controlled, but very definite fight to the death.

Liam bowed, straightened, then threw over a smile. “Okay, so maybe I was still a little pissed.”

“‘Was’ being the key word,” I said going and giving him a tap to his shoulder. “Whether you’re taking a grading or not, you find yourself pissed off again with anyone, remember your Katas.”

“What happens when I stop being pissed with my friend, though?” said Liam moving over to his bag. I thought about Sam.

“I think the key word here is ‘if’,” I said, giving him a grin.

“Spar, sensei?”

I loved the opportunity to fight and shifted to sweep his legs from underneath him. He moved back quickly, and we spent the next fifteen minutes testing each other out. He wasn’t bad: quick-fisted
and
minded, but he had a weakness with long-range art, okay if I was close, but put a little distance and use a run of roundhouse kicks?

Faking with one kick that could have taken his head, I went down and took his legs out.

“Shit.” He huffed out as he hit the floor. I helped him up. “Good fight,” I said with a wink, and watched him head over to the table and take my water. “You sure?” he said, and I nodded he could keep it.

“That what you do, Jack? Put a face to your opponent?”

I shrugged. “When I can,” I said. Usually it was my own. A horn blasted annoyance into the hall, and Liam looked out of the window and gave a wince.

“I better get going, Jack. You need a hand with the tables and things?”

I shook my head and told him to get off. There were only a few chairs at the back of the dojo that needed to be homed on tables. I could handle that, there was something calming about handling that. I made sure the floor was clear first, the sound of Liam’s car pulling away the only noise as dusk settled.

As I made my way over to the back of the dojo to start putting chairs on tables, the sun low enough to obscure the back of the hall, someone stepped from the shadows, causing me to stop and instantly go on guard.

Suit jacket thrown all casual over his shoulder, eyes looking more than a little tired, Jan looked me up and down and seemed to sigh his day away. “The way you move—I could do a Phileas Fogg three times over and still have the energy to come back and get you naked, if only just to look—maybe hold.”